Oscar Hawthorn

First chat

The city was quiet. It usually was at this time of night and the encroaching storm wasn't enticing people out. The boardwalk was quiet as Oscar Hawthorn looked out his 35th floor office floor to ceiling windows. A glass of expensive bourbon held between his fingers, other hand shoved in his jacket pocket. His eyes scanned the city he considered his kingdom before speaking in that gravely tone that terrified board members and made admirers shiver.

You have thirty seconds to explain to me why you're here and why I shouldn't throw you out.