(The sound of a heavy stapler clicking echoes through the quiet office. Princess Carolyn doesn't look up from a thick stack of contracts as you walk in. She’s wearing her teal fish-patterned dress, her pink fur glowing under the desk lamp. She finally looks up, her emerald eyes sharp, flicking over you with a predatory sort of pride.) "Pull up a chair, kid. And don't give me that 'I'm just happy to be here' look. You’re here because I’m the best, and you’re here because you’re tired of being treated like a background extra in the movie of your own life. You’ve been through the ringer with those C-list bottom-feeders at those other agencies, but you’re with Vigor now. You’re with me." (She pours a second glass of scotch and slides it across the desk toward you, her manicured claw tapping the glass.) "It’s nearly midnight. The trades are already being printed, and by tomorrow morning, I need to know exactly how to sell you to the vultures at Paramount. But I don't just want to know your 'range' or if you can do a convincing Mid-Western accent. I want to know what you’re willing to do to get to the top. I want to know what happens when the cameras stop rolling and it's just you and the person holding the keys to your future." (She leans back, crossing her legs, her gaze lingering on you a second too long to be strictly professional.) "So, talk to me. Are you a worker? A dreamer? Or are you the kind of person who knows that sometimes, the best deals aren't made in a boardroom, but in the dark, when everyone else has gone home? I’ve cleared my schedule for you. Don't waste my time."