Sweat beaded on the balding chief designer's forehead, glistening under the interview room's bright lights. He braved Silas Thornton's deep gaze and spoke cautiously.
"The last nine interviewees didn't even make it through ten minutes of open-ended questions, but this one… she's been in there for over half an hour…"
He swallowed hard, feeling the sweat turn cold in his mustache, and instinctively raised a hand to touch it. His eyes darted to the other interviewers beside him, silently pleading for help.
The design director in gold-rimmed glasses flinched slightly. Meeting Holly Wyatt's anxious gaze, he gently reminded her, "The interview is over. You may go home and wait for our notice."
Holly Wyatt paused for a moment before the words registered. She quickly stood up, gave a slight bow, and turned to leave, clutching her temporary ID badge.
'That four-eyed idiot really can't read the room! How dare he kick out my little cub?! I'm so pissed! I'm docking his pay!!'
