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You mean you're not my newest intern?

Are you quite sure? *The three-eyed, many-limbed man smiles even wider, revealing jagged teeth.* It says 'accountant' on your door, and StrexCorp always needs more of those.

They keep getting eaten by the lawyers.

No, I'm not an intern. I actually have an appointment with the head of the accounting department. I just...seem to have gotten a little turned around.

[Cue a slightly embarrassed smile.]

Incredibly sure. [Morrison looks entirely unimpressed by the eyes, the arms, or the fangs.]

I don't do corporate work. Not licensed for it, I'm sure you understand.

"Oh aye! I have, haven't I? I'm so sorry, sir.... Of course you're not James Charlus Potter." And Maria Selwyn winces sheepishly as she makes this realisation, and removes herself from around the poor young man's neck. "So sorry, sir," she says again, with a nervous little laugh and an even deeper apologetic grimace. "I mean-- honestly! You look almost like the spitting image of-- an old friend, really... Only. Well. Of course, this close to you, I can see your hair is not actually black or even really dark brown: yeah?" Still clearly embarrassed by this case of mistaken identity, she gingerly smooths out his rumpled suit with her hands.

That is a shame! You should learn.

Well aren't you lucky. You've bumped into the owner instead.

Oh.

....Oh! Um, hi, sorry. I'm Morrison Falconer. Here on behalf of First Mutual, from Gate City? Your company was looking into some contract work in Gate City, I was here to iron out some of the paperwork with your head of accounting. If I could ever find him. Sorry to bother you.

I'm pretty happy doing personal finance, thanks. You may want to try my colleague down the hall. I think Nancy was planning on specializing in finance law, seems like she'd be right up your alley.

"No, no I'm not," he says a little awkwardly, holding position while the young lady extracts herself from around his neck. He definitely hadn't been expecting this sort of start to the day. First getting lost down these winding streets, then getting practically bowled over by strange women practically squealing something about reunions--it's frankly bewildering. Morrison adjust his glasses, carefully settles his lapels back in order, tries to regain his dignity. "No, it's no problem, please don't worry, it's fine. Mistakes happen. I'm just a tourist, sort of. Here on business. Good luck with your friend?" It's almost more a question than anything else. He's still not exactly sure what's happened, here.

Edited 2015-05-21 11:58 (UTC)

Nah, pretty sure I got the right feller. Mr. Falconer, right?

[He'd made the appointment over the phone, so Cooper was used to this reaction happening. Most people expected him to be older in person than the teenager he appeared to be. Still, he needed an accountant and this one had come highly recommended.]

Well, I could use an accountant too . . . who couldn't?

For your taxes, or for dinner?

I'm sorry, that was unprofessional of me. I'd be happy to help, Mr...

[He's right about that, at least. Morrison wasn't expecting a teenager to walk into his office, and for the moment he's a little perplexed about what to do next.]

Yes, that's right. Are you Mr. Cooper? There may have been a slight misunderstanding, I can't handle the financials of a minor without parental consent...

So you're not an agent meant to figure out anomalies caused by the fabric of the universe going wonky?

Nnnnnno. Unless by 'the fabric of the universe' you mean 'your budgeting and credit score.' I wouldn't be much help with the other thing.

Both! Wait, that was a joke wasn't it? Very good!

My name is Kevin, and here is our local tax code! *He hands over a thick book that looks more like the Necronomicon than a tax code for anywhere. It mysteriously drips blood and faintly howls when opened. 'Lovably Byzantine' is scrawled on the cover in some sort of green slime.*

Edited 2015-05-21 19:42 (UTC)

[Cooper thinks to himself that would be a difficult request, seeing as how his parents have been dead for about two-hundred years. But he doesn't mention it aloud. Better to ease the man into the whole 'I'm a ghoul' thing. He turns a chair around and sits in it, with his arms resting on the back.]

No worries there. I'm older than I look. Now, let's get down to business, shall we?

[ She stares, squints, pauses. ]

Yeah, no, I've never had to worry about credit scores before. Small blessings.

[Morrison takes the book out of habit more than desire and immediately regrets his decision. It's bleeding all over his hands, going to take three gallons of antibacterial soap just to get clean, his desk is probably ruined, and oh god is it screaming??]

I--is this on top of the Arizona state tax code? Or New Mexico? I'm a little fuzzy on exactly what state we're in, now that I think about it, the signs weren't exactly clear...

[He's met weirder. Gate City has its share of the more...unusual denizens, to phrase it politely. And he of course won't turn away extranormals if they really do need help with finances, but he's always suspicious of people who set off alarm bells.]

Of course. I'll be happy to help however I can, however you understand any agreement we make is invalidated if it turns out you aren't, in fact, older than you look? I'd just prefer we be clear about everything up front, I hope you don't mind.

[Her studying makes him fidget, uncomfortable.]

You're fortunate, most people jump straight in without thinking about the consequences. Never a bad time to start thinking about it, though.

You're probably busy looking for your friend and here I am giving you this speech, I'm sorry. Really.

Trust me, I wasn't actively looking or something. I'd say you've just got one of those faces.

Anyway, what kind of credit score can a superhero get, anyway? Not exactly something with a standard income or any of that.

It can be difficult if you're freelance, yeah. I've heard some stories from people who prefer to work as independent contractors, and not having consistently reliable income can make taxes and credit lines both a real pain. Just one more reason why the unions are really the best option for everyone, I personally think. A steady income and great benefit packages aren't anything to laugh at.

We don't really have anything like that where I'm from, trust me. Superpowers are just kind of coming into vogue, so we're paid by the city whenever something comes up. Otherwise my uncle just sells patents.