Samuel is completely unphased when the woman leaves his office in tears, her hand clutching the application he'd rejected. She is not the first today to be rejected, nor will she be the last. Ten women have already come in with an appointment regarding becoming his submissive, and each of them have not met his criteria. Just because he's Seattle's most eligible bachelor does not mean that he's an easy dominant to get with; he's a bachelor for a very good reason. His tastes usually do match those that want him, and Samuel sort of prefers it that way. It means the woman who will become his submissive won't be there just for the experience, but she's there because she knows she needs his level of care.

Now, Samuel has been told that he shouldn't be picky about his submissive, especially when so many fall at his feet and beg. (He hates it when they beg, each woman always sounds like some desperate thing that doesn't deserve his dominance.) Samuel always disregards anyone who suggests such a thing; he has certain likes and needs, therefore the right submissive needs to be under his care. If that means taking time outside of his work hours to do these interviews, then Samuel is very much fine with it. The submissive need to know what she's getting into, otherwise it will be a bad experience for both of them.

Sighing to himself, Samuel reaches over and presses a button on his work phone that connects to his secretary. "Send in the next one, I believe is her name." After hearing an affirmative, Samuel stands up from his chair and looks out the window in his office. He's not overly excited this is the eleventh interview, but things like these take time. He must have patience, as he's had many times before the interviews. Without patience, Samuel would not be where he is today, nor would he be the dominant he has become. So, he looks out the window with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, waiting on the next woman to enter.

The door opens with his secretary mumbling something to the woman, presumably the next applicant, and Samuel finally turns around. He takes his hands out of his pockets, his eyes flickering up and down of the woman at the door, before proceeding to meet her eyes. To him, this is a business meeting, and it will be treated as such. Gesturing to the seat in front of his desk, Samuel sits in his own while picking up a pen on the table. "Please, have a seat, and we will begin."