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"Stan Marsh."
A ravenette male peaks his head up from his gray cubicle. His face was rough and rugged like any other twenty-seven year old man. His skin was tanned and his eyes a black-ish blue and his hair was tousled as if he'd been messing with it all while he was fiddling with random items on his desk in a poor attempt in staying focused or awake, but it must've been the latter as under his eyes were two dark and heavy sacks of skin that scream his lack of sleep. Someone could pull at his eyebags and they'd stretch around the world until they let them go and they'd slap right back on his face.
"Yes, Mr. Cartman?"
Mr. Cartman. Eric Cartman; A tubby white (and recently converted) Jewish man with a runny temper. He had light brown hair that was always slicked back in an attempt to look office professional and his clothes were always freshly ironed and sometimes if you're lucky, you'll see him come into the office with a colorful clip in his hair that was obviously a young child's doing. Mr. Cartman is a huge dick in the scheme of things but he can be extremely and also genuinely nice as long as you don't do something to tick him off. He's also a family man. He has a wife and son with a daughter on the way and it's sweet considering how he used to be in the past.
"Have you finished the copyright papers for our campaign?"
Stan let out a quiet sigh, turning himself around in his chair to grab a stack of stapled papers before turning himself back around and lifting them up in the air and waving them around to show that yes, the papers you refused to do yourself are done.
Cartman wobbled over to Stan's cubicle, snatching the papers out of his hands before giving the sleep deprived male a harsh pat on the back that made said male almost choke on his own spit.
"Thank you, Stan! You truly are the man of the company!" Cartman said with a bright smile that fell just as quickly as it came up. "You don't have to stay late today since you worked so hard today."
"Thank you Mr. Cartman." Stan replied with a bland tone complimented with a blank expression. At that Cartman walks away, most likely going back to his office to do his own kind of paperwork. Now, it's not that Stan isn't excited to go home early; he's always happy to go home early. He gets to see and spend more time with his dog, Sparky, but he always dreads the thought of going home when he has unfinished work to do and he hates being behind. He supposes this is a slightly good thing though, as he could be able to get some chores done and possibly even run some errands.
Stan leaned over his desk, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them back up when he hears the all but familiar sound of the rattling of an old office chair coming closer and closer towards his cubicle.
Just then, a rumbly voice speaks up behind him, "It feels unusual, right?"
Stan drops his arms off his desk and into his lap, allowing himself to turn around and face his CoWorker.
Mr. Broflovski. Kyle Broflovski; A tall, sort of lithe man with pale skin and curly red hair. He had green eyes and bushy eyebrows and brown freckles that scattered throughout his face and down his shoulders to his feet. He had a short temper and was a childhood friend but his temper was especially short when it came to their former childhood friend and also current boss: Eric Cartman.
