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Panel 1 [TERRENCE HANSHAW is sitting behind his desk reading a copy of the Whalemen’s Shipping List. He’s a broadly built middle aged white man. Behind him is a chalkboard listing the prices of whale oil / bone / spermaceti.]

Panel 2 [Small panel of the door hitting the bell hanging above it as it opens.]

Panel 3 [Hanshaw languidly glances up]

Panel 4 [Wider shot over Hanshaw’s shoulder as Lawrence steps into the empty office, slightly self conscious in his body language.

LAWRENCE:
Good evening, sir. I saw your notice looking for men to ship aboard a whaler and—

HANSHAW:
Landsman?

Panel 5 [Lawrence is caught off guard a bit by the interruption, pulling his bag up on his shoulder]

LAWRENCE:
I—yes,

Panel 6 [Hanshaw is looking down with an impassive expression as he folds his newspaper on his desk, gesturing with his other hand for Lawrence to come closer.]

HANSHAW:
Can tell by the way you walk. Step up.