While not one of the most well known groups of hired swords, Ozel's boys were at least prominent enough to have their own headquarters. They bragged about this like it was some sort of huge achievement. Kri realized upon her arrival that the building was crammed between two newer, nicer shops. Some patches of its drooping roof were actually missing shingles. The edges of the wood paneling on the walls had rotted away, leaving gaping holes. Kri fumbled to fit the key into the doorknob, jiggled it, jiggled it harder, and eventually just kicked the damn thing open. The entire building, including the hanging sign that faintly read "Ozel Military Contractors," swayed from the force of the blow.
It was now clear to her why she, the newest member of the company, was chosen to be on "office duty" today. The half-orc's previous comment gained some context: "We get word of mouth. A guy who knows a guy who knows us, that sort of thing. Curb appeal's less important." Kri wondered why so many potential customers, after looking at this barely-standing piece of shit, didn't just up and walk away.
Realizing that the building wouldn't have any visitors, Kri disobeyed her orders to stay in full armor ("It makes you look more present'ble, like") and piled her plates behind the front desk. She propped her greatsword on the wall nearby, hoping that its weight wouldn't break a hole in the wall. The oread then took a seat and began the tedious process of waiting until her shift was over.
Another thing that Ozel and the others had failed to mention was that somehow, despite the distinct slits in the wall paneling, their "headquarters" retained heat like an oven -- and it was in the middle of the summer. Attempts to remedy this problem by opening the two windows and the door were barely helpful. Kri flopped back onto her chair, defeated and miserable, trying her best to distract herself from the horrible situation she'd found herself in. There were still hours left before she was allowed to leave.
