'Mark, baby, all you're tellin' me is that I help you keep your job,' Boris proclaimed from somewhere across the room, his computer verrrrry slowly turning on at last, the device finally letting him tap in his initials and password to start work off. Damn thing was the only reason why he had a job, actually, and it barely worked half the time to start with, piece of crap that it was. Since getting G-Word, he'd been kind of wondered if he couldn't just... go ham on some of the people here. Not all of them, and especially not Mark, but... [i]certain individuals[/i] really ground his gears. Just a few.

'Yo, Norman,' he repeated in the meantime, giving the same finger pistols to the guy as he had to everyone else. 'Good to see you in, buddy.' Honestly, the guy was so unassuming that Boris forgot he existed half the time. He remembered a time when he was tangentially interested in certain Japanese shows, way before he'd gotten deep into greaser culture, and one of the major villains of one had been a serial killer in the guise of an unassuming businessman. Hopefully, Norm would never do anything like that, the same way Boris would never kill people with his contained plasma blade.