You shake Mr. McAllister's hand and make your way out of the office. You open the door and see Ristain sitting, white faced and fidgeting on the burgundy sofa outside the office. This will be easier than you thought. You spot him before he looks up and have just enough time to wipe the shit eating grin off your face, transforming your demeanor into that of a beaten dog. He hears the door open and looks up meeting your eyes with a pleading glance, beggin for reassurance. You look at him with downtrodden eyes and shake your head slightly. His shoulders drop and his mouth purses. You mouth "Im sorry" to him as you walk by. Before he can stop you and interrogate you, Mr McAllister opens the door and announces "Mr. Tayne" in a tone that seems to back up your magnificiently evil plot. You turn away and walk towards the elevator. An enormous smile breaks out on your face. You can't look back now or your exhileration will certainly give it away. Your pretty sure you skip those last few steps to the elevator door.
You head home with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and contentment. Everything seems to have fallen into place. If feels as though fate has placed these opportunites in front of you and you have chosen correctly at every turn. You walk into your musty little apartment. It seems far smaller and darker now that your life seems so much bigger and brighter. A new place will have to be in the works sooner than later. You throw open the shades and wrench the painted-shut window into the open position. A cool breeze pushes through the window, fluttering the curtains and blowing wisps of sparkly dust into little whirlwinds and swirls in the illuminated rays. You stand there, looking out the window and letting the breeze whip the loose tendrils of hair around your brow. It's a good day. A little songbird is perched in a tree just outside your window, singing its little brains out. The black menaces are no where to be found. You smile as you watch the little bird bouncing from branch to branch, breathing in the sweet evening air. You grab a fuzzy blanket and wrap yourself in it and plop down on the couch with a glass of wine. You just sit there, letting your mind wander in all kinds of wonderful ways, sipping your wine and enjoying the cool breeze whispering through the apartment. After about an hour you hear a loud knock on the door. You throw the blanket into a bundle on the couch and rush to the door, peeping through the peephole. You see a slightly distorted version of Ristain's face, beaming back through the hole at you. You unlatch the door and let it swing open.