Joe was on the phone, feet kicked back, and talking to someone or another about some advertisement job. His desk was a mess, but yet somehow organized. He could find each and every piece of paper on it if he wanted to. His trashcan was piled with old coffee cups and sandwich wrappers.

The middle aged man ended his call right as Evie walked in. Perfect timing. Fate, perhaps?

"Ah, Eva! I hope you remembered the vanilla this time," He said, swinging his feet off the desk and leaning forward to take his cup. He never remembered her name correctly. His slightly beady eyes landed on the manila folder she was holding. "What, uh, what do ya' got there?" He asked, almost suspiciously. That looked like a report folder, and not the one for the fashion column he'd given her last week.