Y/n stood at the bottom of the grand steps, briefcase in hand, tie pulled just a little too tight.

A stream of employees in sharp suits flowed upward past them, their shoes clicking against white marble in a rhythm that felt almost like a heartbeat. The building itself hummed. It was a sound of air conditioning, of elevators, of money.

At the top of the steps, a young woman in a charcoal suit held a tablet. She looked at Y/n's lanyard, then at her screen, then back at the lanyard.