Vanellope von Schweetz, along with the rest of the ninth floor, watched as a pair of Reeses peanut butter cups in security uniforms escorted a grumpy-gilled Gloyd Orangeboar to the elevator.
He is putting on quite a show.
"You fudgeheads have no idea what's about to happen around here! If you don't listen to me, this could potentially-"
When he passed by Vanellope their eyes met, and he discreetly slipped her a flash drive along with this dire warning:
"Be careful," is what he said, as the gingerbread elevator doors closed in front of him.
And that was the last anyone in the office saw of Mr. Orangeboar.
Truth be told, Gloyd was fired from his position as General Manager of the Financial Risk Analysis & Cupcakes department on that day six days prior, but as far as Vanellope could tell business had gone on as usual at Muttonfudge and Co.
The next day, a team came on the scene to explain why the old faithful was fired in the first place.
"He wasn't making the firm enough money to warrant his continued employment," was HR Manager Wynnchel the maple glazed eclair's excuse, and that was that.
Despite some nagging concerns, as a recent addition to the Muttonfudge and Company family Vanellope knew better than to ask any unneccesary questions.
In fact, tonight she is glimpsing into the edible flash drive's contents for the first time, more out of curiosity than anything.
But to her surprise, there is more jelly to this donut than she previously predicted.
"This is a historical volatility record of our thingummy jelly bean gobbly gook timeshare portfolio."
Candlehead yawns as she glances at the monitor screen; apparently as interested as the janitor sweeping up sprinkles a few aisles away.
"I'm guessing that's something important."
"Basically, he was using past data on the projected risk of our jelly bean timeshare packages in order to predict our future red licorice level scenarios. Seems like the algorithm still requires a few finishing touches."
"Oh, that's cool," Candlehead replies absently, as she throws on her jacket, "anyway, I'm gonna hit the road. There's this new club down the block all the other guys on the floor are checking out, called The Sugar Shack."
As enticing as a night at a dance club called 'The Sugar Shack' might seem, Vanellope is not really paying any attention; too absorbed by the numbers and literal pie graphs reflected in her bright pupils.
As the song Wolves by Phosphorescent plays in the background, another Muttonfudge employee finds himself wrapped up in another kind of drama.
Wynnchel is at a vet's office watching his Devil Dog twitch in its drug-induced sleep.
Still awake, but barely, he removes his sunglasses and rubs both his eyes while recalling how his foamy friend Fifi got into some chocolate again, only this time it could very well spell the old dog's end.
Now all he could do is watch her struggle to keep in the last of her delicious cream filling, and hope for the best.
Meanwhile, Candlehead's work cell rings while she is walking around in the off-hours salaryman's paradise that is The Sugar Shack, bouncy Japanese Pop music playing on the loudspeakers.
It is Vanellope.
"What's up," she answers, taking a quick swig from her keg of root beer.
Vanellope is pacing back and forth down the aisle, stopping briefly to break off a chocolate chip chunk from the wall which she nervously noms on as she continues.
"I think I might have discovered something huge, Candlehead. I need you to bring one of the floor managers over here. Tell them it's about the jelly bean timeshares volatility profile."
"What? Are you seriously just springing this on me now?"
Vanellope is in the rec room throwing together a bowl of miniature chocolates, lollipops, and thin mints she scavenges from the shelves and refrigerator.
"Yeah, sorry about this. It really is sort of a big deal though. I'm talking big enough to sink the entire company."
"I'd have an easier time believing a blue Skittle tastes the same as a blue M&M."
"This one's a real hard candy."
Vanellope stops halfway through unwrapping an Almond Joy, just in time to realize it is in fact an Almond Joy, and discards it into the trash can that also happens to be coconut flavored accordingly.
"Can I count on you to have somebody here within the hour?"
Candlehead glances at a clock on the wall. It's five sprinkles to the yellow macaroon.
"Yeah, but I hope for your sake that this is the real orange peel."
"Thanks a ton."
Vanellope hangs up.
Sighing, she takes a mint leaf out of her pocket and holds it up to her face, inspecting it vacantly.
"'Be careful', huh?"
The last words of her ex boss now made sense, and she knew that a firestorm was brewing, if what the results were correct.
Until Candlehead could arrive with reinforcements, Vanellope would lean back in her chair loosening up her collar a bit, and take a few mint hits while she still had the chance.