"So, what is your current profession?" 

Mortimer Graves was on his 3rd interviewee. The first two had been the Gralin sisters themselves, who seemed to know exactly what he wanted working partners for. They had done their research, and the only way he could plausibly refuse them was to say, "I need one of you. Not both. Is that alright?" Luckily for him, it was not alright, so he didn't really have to worry about potential betrayals anymore. He forced himself to focus on the person before him.

"I work as a mercenary, sometimes do some legal work as well in junkyards and whatnot. You know, the usual."

Mortimer nodded, satisfied. Before he could ask his next question, the stranger interrupted.

"What is the job? Your description wasn't very specific, and I need to know so that my girlfriend won't get worried. I can tell other people about the job, right?"

Mortimer immediately disconnected the call. He wasn't going to waste his time on someone who couldn't keep a secret. 

His next applicant was someone who wrote themselves as merely  "Johanal". That interview never happened, as it turned out they thought it was an interview using the outdated and poorly-run postal service.

The last person he was able to find called him the very next day while he was eating a 1:00 PM breakfast, having had to stay up all night dealing with the angry postal service on why Johanal had sent about 20 letters at once to him improperly addressed.

"Yes? I'm eating breakfast. How did you get this number?" To say that Mort was slightly pissed off would be a gross understatement.

"Uhm, I had no idea that your name was Eating Breakfast! What a unique moniker! So, I'm one of your applicants to your job offer- does the name Perion ring a bell?"

Mortimer looked through the resume tiredly, annoyed with this entire enterprise. "Is this how you treat all of your interviewers?  No wonder you haven't been able to hold down a steady job for over 3 months..."

There was hurried paper scrabbling on the other end, and he swore later that he could hear the man thinking. "Uhm, yeah, I do... I'm sorry, no one ever told me that treating you like others treat me was bad..."

Mortimer winced. Well, this candidate was about as good as he was going to get, considering the other applicants. 1 & 2 were the cause of the problem, 3 was a blabbermouth, and 4 was unreachable. This was his last choice, and he wasn't the worst applicant. He could work with him. He HAD to work with him. 

"Perion, you said?" 

Perion gulped. He'd never have to interact with such a grumpy person before. However, his bright and sunny disposition wasn't going to give up without a fight. "Yes, sir! That's my name!"

Mortimer sighed, as usual. "Well, since you're the only option left, I expect you at 120 Forsythid Street at 4pm tomorrow on the dot- not a minute later."

Perion grinned. He loved a good walk- he lived about 15 minutes away from Forsythid street. "Yes, boss, honored to meet you soon. Have a nice day!" 

Mortimer immediately hung up. He'd never felt so relieved to get off of the phone in his life. He stretched out on his couch and promptly fell asleep.