Good Company by foxcat
He stretched his legs out in front of him, slouching down further in the comfortable chair. His shoes were caked in a thin layer of dried mud, he noticed with some satisfaction. He picked at his left shoe, crumbling the mud carelessly onto the burgundy carpet. To his delight, a moment later he heard a nasal tutting sound coming from the centre of the room and then the low, disgusted whispering of two of the mouldy old farts in the corner who had witnessed his vulgarity.
He grinned to himself and decided to wipe at his nose with his shirt sleeve for good measure.