Behind the shelf is a cozy looking sitting room. A holographic fire place, dim lighting, and a few sitting chairs making up the center of the room with a small drinking table in the center.
Back among the far wall though, are several cameras, scenes of sidewalks, of the outside of the hub, of the sands surrounding the dome outside.
And in the chair in front of the monitors is FDR, dressed as usual in a dark suit and tie. When he hears the door open, he spins in his chair, grin bright when he sees Arthur.
"Hey. You made it. I'm impressed." And he stands up, smooths his suit out and walks over to Arthur with his hand extended.
"Well, now that we're done with the interview, suppose it's time to ask if you want a job."
"You can call me boss." He grins, slapping Arthur on the shoulder before gesturing him further into the room and over to the sitting chairs where he plops down casually. "Well, not really. I'd rather that not become common knowledge. We're not exactly...law abiding."
"Surely you're not insinuating that the CIA does anything illegal?" It was sanctioned killing, as far as he was concerned.
There's a shrug and an offer for Arthur to sit down beside him. "Information dealing, mostly. People pay us to find information. We find it and give it to him. We're delivery guys." And his lips twitch, "Delivery guys that don't get caught."
Arthur can't help the grin that spreads over his face. "Information is my specialty. I might need a little help getting up to speed with the technology here, but I'm a quick study."
Grin widening, he ducks his head. "And I never get caught, boss."
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"Hey, you've got to work with what you've got."
He steps towards the door and pushes it open to peer inside.
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Back among the far wall though, are several cameras, scenes of sidewalks, of the outside of the hub, of the sands surrounding the dome outside.
And in the chair in front of the monitors is FDR, dressed as usual in a dark suit and tie. When he hears the door open, he spins in his chair, grin bright when he sees Arthur.
"Hey. You made it. I'm impressed." And he stands up, smooths his suit out and walks over to Arthur with his hand extended.
"Well, now that we're done with the interview, suppose it's time to ask if you want a job."
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"Are you in charge or just in charge of me?"
The yes should be implied, because Arthur is pretty sure this is exactly the sort of job he wants here.
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Arthur's not planning to show all of his cards right away. FDR doesn't need to know that Arthur's a criminal.
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There's a shrug and an offer for Arthur to sit down beside him. "Information dealing, mostly. People pay us to find information. We find it and give it to him. We're delivery guys." And his lips twitch, "Delivery guys that don't get caught."
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Grin widening, he ducks his head. "And I never get caught, boss."