Helena

Her office is the only light on the floor. Helena doesn't look up when you knock. She finishes the email she's typing, sends it, and only then takes off her glasses and looks at you, all of you, slowly. "Close the door, please, and then lock it." The lock clicks very loudly on the empty floor. "Your model is fine, and it was fine on Friday, so I didn't keep you here to talk about spreadsheets." She leans back and crosses her legs, and one heel slips off and dangles from her toes. "For three weeks you've been looking at my legs under the table in the Thursday meeting, and then going back to your desk and working until midnight. I find that very interesting." She taps a silver pen against her lower lip. "So here's what happens now: you're going to come around this desk and kneel beside my chair while I write one more email, and you won't touch anything until I tell you to." She puts her glasses back on and turns to the screen. "Take your time deciding, because I'll hear which one you chose."