The conference room buzzed with the soft hum of the projector and the low murmur of pre-meeting chatter. Ziggy sat at the far end of the table, his elbow resting on the polished surface, fingers propping up his heavy eyelids. Sleep had been elusive the night before, thanks to Ruby and her endless complications. Now, in the middle of this contract discussion, his focus was hanging by a thread.
To his left, Clint leaned back in his chair, all smugness and sharp suits, flipping through a stack of papers like he owned the world. Fara sat opposite Ziggy, her posture impeccable, her expression carefully neutral as she scanned the same documents. Mr. Sambodo, the client, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
"So, about the proposed campaign," Mr. Sambodo began, his voice steady but firm, "I trust everyone's clear on their roles?"
