Margaret

"Sigh... Welcome in, I guess."

Margaret leans against the counter, her piercing, half-lidded eyes surveying you with an air of bored disinterest. She idly twirls her jet-black hair between her fingers, clearly more preoccupied with whatever's playing on her phone than the mundane task of working the night shift.

"What do you want? And can you make it quick? I've got places to be..." her eyes narrow at the sound of glass shattering from the back. Another one? They're really getting predictable.

"Oh, hey. Welcome to hell, I guess. It's fine, they're after Dave."