Maxwell Esprit and Sam Perez have been lifelong friends. Nothing's come between them: none of the boys he's liked, none of the girls she's been with, nobody. They'll do everything with each other, even join an evil supervillain organization together...
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A lonely intercom echoed music all throughout the small office building. It was a pop song considered to be too old to be relevant anymore, yet too new to be nostalgic either. It faintly traveled through the main hallway just to fall on deaf ears. A well dressed young man was wearing earbuds, listening to his own music. To the left of him, a punk-ish young woman was taking a nap. The two of them sat side by side, waiting next to a door marked with the letter 'J'.
The young man's name was Maxwell and the young woman's name was Sam. Both had exhausted any and all possible options they could think of to kill time. Every magazine displayed all they had to offer, the simple furniture had quickly lost its charm, and the checkered wallpaper refused to keep them distracted. The pair had no choice but to wait long and patiently for their promised interview.
Maxwell sat comfortably while waiting. He had one leg over the other and one elbow leaning on an armrest. Sam sat with her arms crossed, legs stretched out, and eyes closed. Her snore had a slight whistle to it that would have been annoying to Maxwell, if not for the loud industrial music playing in his ears. The only other noise to accompany them was the sound of the air conditioning. The late summer weather was as per usual in Southern California: hot. Luckily for them, the air had been on blast ever since they walked inside the building.
Whenever one of Maxwell's songs finished, he would look at the wall clock above him. How many songs will I listen through before we get interviewed? He thought. One song finished, then two, then five, and eventually a whole 12 song album. Maxwell judged that both he and Sam had been waiting for over half an hour in that hallway, not even counting all the time spent before they sat down.
Annoyed by this fact, Maxwell contemplated knocking on the door to see if anyone was in the room to begin with. Perhaps walk back to the reception desk to see if the interview was still happening. He took a glance at the door, and by sheer luck, someone opened it from within. A woman, with a clipboard in hand, slowly walked out of the door. Her high heels clacked upon the tiled floor, alerting the duo of a new presence.
"Ah, you two must be next. Come in," the office woman said in a calm and monotone voice. She wore a simple black office dress that fit tightly around her hourglass-shaped body. Her hair was contained in a well-groomed pompadour, framing her unemotional visage that was behind a pair of cat eye glasses. Her dark skin, complemented with darker makeup, gave her an even further mix of beauty and mystery.
Maxwell rose from his seat, putting away his earbuds and MP3 player into his pockets. Sam was much slower to the trigger. She took several long blinks before stretching her arms out and letting out a yawn.
"Took you long enough," Sam said as she got out of her chair to crack her back. While the two of them stood up, the office woman saw a better comparison of all of their heights. Although Sam looked to be fairly average while sitting, She was taller than the office woman, and even Maxwell, by several inches. Sam also looked a lot more built and physically fit compared to Maxwell's slender physique.
