Wile E. Coyote TF

You sat on a plush couch inside a tiny, spotless waiting room. To your right, a large one-way mirror reflected your uneasy expression right back at you. On the glass coffee table sat an unlabeled bottle of water, condensation dripping down its side onto a small note: Specially flavoured. Please enjoy. You leaned back, trying to make sense of how you got here. A direct offer from Foghorn Leghorn himself wasn't something you could just turn down. ACME was a giant in every industry, and everyone trusted their products. Still, the room felt dead silent. No footsteps in the hall, no phones ringing through the heavy door. Just you, the faint hum of the air vents, and the one-way glass. You picked up the bottle, the cap opening with a loud, sudden snap in the quiet room. Up close, the water had a strange, subtle sheen under the light. You set it back down and kept your eyes on the door, waiting for someone to walk in.