Sculptures of heroic figures stand upright against the walls, and the cold, polished marble floor reflects the sunlight let in by a large bay window set at the back of the room. Had you not already known this was an office, you would have thought it a small museum, or some kind of tribute to Gnawthian gods and architecture.
The desk at the back of the room is of the same stone material as the statues to either side of you, and contains several visible flaws. One of its legs is propped up with books, and cracks run every which way along its surface. It must be expensive to repair, otherwise the ambassador probably would have seen to it.
There is no chair for you to sit in, only a pile of rubble in front of the desk, which in all likelihood was a chair in a previous life, perhaps as short as a day or so ago.
As you approach the desk, minding the debris on the floor, you realize that every statue in the room is pointed in your direction. Their faces are all set in various states of despair, and you feel as if they were real people at one point, frozen in stone at the pinnacle of their suffering. You can't be sure if you actually feel their collective stony gaze upon you, or if it's just your imagination. The ambassador is supposed to be a Gorgon, right? Better not think too hard about it.
No pun intended.
"Hmm. Sit down. Sit up straight, and don’t slouch. Maybe if I keep you in here long enough, the rest of your kind will grow bored and leave. I would love for that to happen. I don’t really even want to be here. I’m an ambassador now, and I have to stay in this office? This tiny box? Pathetic! I should be out spreading my influence, not here helping a couple of homeless vagrants. All of you will just take everything this city has to offer and leave nothing in return. I’ve seen it before. Everyone is the same.
"You’re here because I need to process your paperwork. I don’t know why you have to be here. I can fill out your papers just fine without you being in my presence, disturbing me. Why are there even so many forms? What’s the point if you’re automatically granted citizenship? All of you should just be able to write in your names on a piece of paper and send them in. Mayor’s taking your word on faith alone, so why not your written word? Ridiculous. Wasting my time. I bet you’re enjoying this, too, huh?
"The ambassador before me was pitiful. Scrooge McGrouch, she was. I told her not to sleep with the windows open, but she refused to listen to my advice, and now she’s sick with some kind of tropical flu. Bullshit. Probably just made it up to not have to be here to deal with all of you. I know that’s what I would do if I were in her shoes.
"I don’t even want you to be on the same continent as me, let alone the same city. You look filthy, you look like you haven’t slept in days, you look unkempt, disheveled, untidy. Your appearance offends me, and I won’t have you looking like that if I’m to fill these papers out with your info. If we weren’t so pressed for time, I’d drown you in the river. At least then you’d be clean. Forever.
"Just be quiet and entertain yourself while I finish these. Actually, no. Entertain me. Maybe I’m too bored today to properly fill these out. I should go home, really. I feel the slightest bit of fever coming on, and it wouldn’t do to have me spreading the cold to everyone out here. Maybe if there was some really good act to amuse me, I would forget all about having a possibly contagious flu.
"Sickening. Your idea of entertainment disgusts me, and I hope your time here on this continent is short. I hope your new life is a brief one. If I could, I’d ship you right back to wherever the hell it is you came from. Glissod? Jewell? I don’t care about either of those. Take your papers and get out. If you don’t figure out where to file them, you’re not going to be a citizen. Figure it out yourself. I’m too busy to do it for you. Send the next baby in here while you’re out there."