Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was one of those nice evenings where Harold had the building to himself. He had to strain his disdainful expression to neutral a little bit less, he did not have to talk to anybody who was coming in and out of his office, and he wasn't expecting any phone calls to follow up on...merchandise.

No, it was only the man and a nice pile of paperwork that he only had to look over because he could not trust any of the others to really do their jobs in their entirety.


Still, the task was not entirely unpleasant. A nice paper cup of tea sat on the corner of his desk, left so kindly by his assistant, a little pick me up that made him think of things he found both strange...and not entirely unpleasant. Muted notions he let fester in their own ways as he idly stroked the mouth of his cup. Things he would not think long on as sound from out in the main area of the building - mostly large open spaces that were carefully filled with metal shipping containers and palettes, all waiting for their trucks to come for them.

Squaring up his shoulders, Harold stepped out of his office, still failing to mask his disapproval as it drooped towards hints of malice. "We're closed," he boomed, even before spotting anybody, "leave."

The oddness of Destiny City had not been lost on Harold, who had heard the rumors and the quaint little stories his employees told one another about things that were impossible in biology and more than that, implausible. So initially, he did not trust his eyes, easily blaming what he saw on how what light there was in the room.

Even the light could not invent teeth, however, and for a long time, he stared at Sebille's smile. Perhaps fantasizing some practical purpose for having such things in one's mouth. Still, his expression remained unchanging.

"Indeed. All there is to be found in these hours is paperwork," Harold answered finally with a firmness in his voice that pointedly leaned away from being short and unpleasant. Almost stiffly so. "I would be happy to host you during business hours, but those passed over an hour ago and our systems have been shut down for the day."

Waiting for this stranger, whatever he was, to compose himself for an answer, the corners of Harold's lips tightened just so as he folded his arms behind his back so he held one wrist.

"My employees would know better than to fuss about it, however," Harold stated firmly. "If they wish to keep their employment, that is." He ran a tight ship with no nonsense. If any thought him perhaps a tough strict, well....they were free to leave whenever they liked. Nobody had found it worth the loss in pay yet, however.

Taking a long look at the Youma's dress as he asked about his wares, Harold straightened up just a touch more - enough to look fairly haughty about it all. "What is in many of these containers is a matter of confidentiality between myself and my customers. All I could speak on are wares meant for myself and I find most lack the...taste...for such finery. Tell me, does luxury furniture bore you?"

Because Harold certainly would not pass up an opportunity to...indulge his ego a bit.

The rather enthusiastic answer had Harold staring for a moment, expression faltering to almost surprise, before a pleased grin spread across his face. Ah, a chance to humble-brag would not be wasted, even if it was on....well, he wasn't certain was Sebille was, if he was honest.

Crossing the crate-filled loading area with plenty of room to navigate, Harold ran a hand almost lovingly over the side of one of the crates before flipping through his keys and opening the lock. With almost a flourish, he opened the doors then stepped inside. Carefully, he pulled back one of the pieces of plastic to allow the Youma a look at the sofa beneath it.

Perhaps the clean, cream colored leather was a plain color, but the lines were clean and Harold almost caressed the fine detailed stitching along the seams. "Hand made," he explained.

It was perfect, as far as he cared.