Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Charles Foster Offdensen, as usual, had spent in his entire day drowned in paperwork. He was a manager, a lawyer, and an advisor to possibly the most popular, most dangerous band on planet earth... and beyond. It was his bread and butter, despite the constant lawsuits and chaos and carpal tunnel in his hands from all the paperwork he had to fill out every day. It was just part of the job.... or, jobs.
Though, as Charles reached to the left side of his desk for his next form, he felt nothing. He looked around and realized he had nothing else he was supposed to do. He'd finished his work for the day. He raised his eyebrows in a rare and fleeting moment of surprise, his Sisyphean task was completed. He sat back in his office chair and contemplated on his next step.
Oh, he knew. Recently he'd hired a new Klokateer of the 'assistant' variety, though they hadn't gotten much use as of yet. He wasn't totally sure if he *needed* one, really, but it practically paid for itself and it was just too good of a deal to pass up on. He'd treat himself to a grapefruit Lacroix and a single filtered Camel cigarette.
He pressed the button on his desk to send them up.
Locked Content
NSFW