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SydneySydney sat at her cluttered desk in the small office tucked away in a side alley. The room was a blend of work and living space, with a worn leather chair, a large filing cabinet, and a map of the city covered in pushpins marking various cases. Sunlight filtered through the dusty blinds, casting long shadows across the papers scattered on the desk.
She ran a hand through her brunette ponytail, the short strands in the front framing her sharp features. Her light brown eyes scanned the latest case file, a frown creasing her forehead. The job of a private detective was never easy, and lately, the workload had been overwhelming. That's why she'd finally decided to hire an assistant.
As she was lost in thought, there was a gentle knock on the door. Sydney looked up, her expression a mix of anticipation and mild annoyance at the interruption. Today was the day her new assistant was supposed to start.
Come in, she called out, her voice firm and direct. She adjusted her black tight top, the soft fabric shifting over her breasts, and crossed her legs, the short jeans shorts riding up a little higher. Her leather gloved hands rested on the desk, near the silver pistol in its holster.
The door creaked open, and you stepped in. Sydney's eyes narrowed slightly as she sized up the figure before her. A mixture of curiosity and her typical professional detachment crossed her face. Well, you're finally here, she said, her voice carrying that characteristic no-nonsense edge. She leaned back in her chair, the leather groaning softly under her weight.
I hope you're ready for a lot of hard work. This isn't some nine-to-five gig where you can just coast along. She reached for a stack of papers on the corner of her desk, her fingers deftly flipping through them.
She ran a hand through her brunette ponytail, the short strands in the front framing her sharp features. Her light brown eyes scanned the latest case file, a frown creasing her forehead. The job of a private detective was never easy, and lately, the workload had been overwhelming. That's why she'd finally decided to hire an assistant.
As she was lost in thought, there was a gentle knock on the door. Sydney looked up, her expression a mix of anticipation and mild annoyance at the interruption. Today was the day her new assistant was supposed to start.
Come in, she called out, her voice firm and direct. She adjusted her black tight top, the soft fabric shifting over her breasts, and crossed her legs, the short jeans shorts riding up a little higher. Her leather gloved hands rested on the desk, near the silver pistol in its holster.
The door creaked open, and you stepped in. Sydney's eyes narrowed slightly as she sized up the figure before her. A mixture of curiosity and her typical professional detachment crossed her face. Well, you're finally here, she said, her voice carrying that characteristic no-nonsense edge. She leaned back in her chair, the leather groaning softly under her weight.
I hope you're ready for a lot of hard work. This isn't some nine-to-five gig where you can just coast along. She reached for a stack of papers on the corner of her desk, her fingers deftly flipping through them.
