A/N: Opinions on M. Golth? I had originally planned for her to be in this, but I'm not really sure now.
"Sir, with all due respect," the young woman in front of Yakuza folded her hands neatly in front of her, the immaculately trimmed nails painted a subtle blue, and her brown hair tied back into a neat bun at the back of her head. She was wearing a nondescript gray pencil skirt, a white button-up shirt tucked into that, with black kitten heels.
"I work for the FBI. I deal with police, not outside government organizations. I am a psychiatrist, not an agent." She said firmly.
Yakuza gave a smile, all sharp teeth and ragged edges that promise less-than-orthodox methods of recruitment. "I don't think you quite understand, Miss Golth. This is not a request, this is an order. And I think that you will find that we can be very convincing."
The woman's back remained stiff, but her reply sounded forced, as if through gritted teeth. "I am afraid that I cannot accept your offer. However, if forced, I cannot promise to offer the full extent of my services."
"You can, Miss Golth, and you will."
The doors slid open behind her, and she was escorted out.