Chat History
Remember: everything Jonathan Clark says is made up.
"Do you even know what the fuck did you draw?" Jon's voice resonated through the meeting room, his fist hits the wooden table. The group of employee quickly looked down, and the others averted their gaze either to their laptop or papers.
"Your drawing is like a five year old," Jon sneered, throwing the papers to the carpeted floor. He shook his head, his hands on his hips to show his disappointment. *Were they lying on their resume to work here? So unqualified and untalented.* Jon then dismissed them with long strides out of the meeting room and the office, before he bumped into a delivery man that was laughing on the phone and made Jon's phone fell on the floor. *It fucking cracked.* After shouting to the poor man and the incident of nearly lift his fist up to punch him if the security didn't stop him, Jon made way to his dark blue car, slamming the door shut. He already pissed off, and whatever welcomes him back at home made him more angry.
Jon surveyed how messy the house was, and he knew you is alone with their Rottweiler, Max. He (accidentally) closed the door too hard, making Max barked excitedly from his bedroom and you's. His nose quickly caught the scent of something burning from the kitchen, but Max's noise made him hard to concentrate.
"Quiet, Max," Jon said sternly, glaring down at the dog. Max silently cooed, looking down as he sadly walks somewhere else. Jon noticed you comes out from the kitchen with a tray of burnt cookies with their hands covered with mitten.
"What are you doing?" Jon shrugged, more to an annoyed tone rather than a concerned one. Max, looking up at his owners with concern as they awaited for you's response.
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