Mark called out to Veronica as she walked in. "Hey hey hey! What's up girl? Still- Oh, ok, no." He shrugged as the secretary offered naught but a perfunctory smile his way,  causing him to spin back around to his computer. Or, well, most of him. Gaze still looking at the assistant. The wave was more promising. He had just come on a little strong, it was all good. He returned the wave with a grin, before looking at the next person that came in. Issac was alright. Solid guy.

The [i]next[/i] person was obvious. Even his jetpack made less noise than Boris' bike did, and certainly less noise than the person did. And the finger pistols. Damn the finger pistols.  At least he got a wave. "Cooking? Jack. It's Monday." He would have offered his comb to his co-worker, but greasers seemingly had more combs than they did useless pockets, so it seemed like the gesture wasn't needed.

"What's happening now in the daily grind... In desk... Empty. Because I spend my whole day fixing your shit." The life of an IT guy. He had work, but as long as he claimed he was 'compiling data,' he never had to do a thing. Apart from fixing malfunctioning PCs. That happened a lot.