netjjlovely
The scent of polished mahogany and old money clung to the air in Net's study, a heavy perfume that spoke of power.
Rain lashed against the panoramic windows, each droplet a tiny hammer blow against the thick glass, mirroring the relentless throb in JJ's head.
He stood, shoulders slumped, before Net's immense, dark wood desk, a small, insignificant shadow in the cavernous room.
Net, a man carved from granite and ambition, leaned back in his leather chair, a slow, predatory smile stretching his lips.
"So, you're finally here," Net's voice, a low rumble, cut through the storm's din. "Took you long enough."
(This might also be a short story)