945

Part the first

The air actually hurt as it blew on my face. The sidewalk was crowded, I was amazed that I still could walk down it. A sharp left into the alley I went, down the length of the hardly paved ground, then a sharp right out of it. Before me stood a large building, protected by a chain link fence. Four out-of-place mullioned windows decorated the front of the structure, though they were boarded up from the inside. I found the gate of the fence about ten feet away from where I stood. Approaching the door I reached into the pocket of my coat and produced a single key with a long piece of lavender ribbon tied to it. I suppose you were supposed to wear it as a necklace, but as a well-to-do man myself, I found wearing a necklace to be a bit on the ridiculous side of things. With much force I slid the key into the rusty lock on the gate and turned it, cringing at its rusty squeals. Impassively, I opened the gate and walked towards the building's front entry. My face was nearly numb from the cold, but I'd be inside soon enough.

The door to the building was stuck, as per usual, yet it opened with a nice hip-check, courtesy of my now bruised haunch. I slammed the door behind me, and the room came into focus as I turned my head away from the door. It was nicely decorated, despite the boarded windows, but you have to keep the sun out somehow don't you? I looked down as I wiped my shoes on the "WELCOME!" door mat. My shoes were new, they were dress shoes, and rather expensive, but I didn't mind the price. I had the money.

I looked up from my feet, and was greeted by a fancily carved desk, with a woman behind it. She was wearing a white blouse with a large bow in the front. Her hair dangled in large ringlets beside her face, which I noticed was not smiling. She looked slightly annoyed actually. On the desk sat a laptop, and a small pot of faux smilax. She plastered on a fake smile when she noticed me, and looked up from her computer.

"You here for something, or are you just gonna stare?" She asked.

From the inside of my jacket, I pulled a folded piece of paper and unfolded it, slapping it on the desk. She snatched it up and read it over, eyes darting across the lines of print. Her eyes widened as she finished reading it.

"Mister Oliver?" She gasped, eyes still wide.

"That's the name," I replied. I rolled my eyes. She should recognize me by now.

I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently. Would she hurry up please, I just want the room number. She was quickly becoming a vexation. I wasn't a misogynist but this woman really ticked me off.

"Oh.. um... well... ok," She stuttered, and clicked a few things on her computer. "Ok, the room number is 413, when you get there ask for Tallon Lewis," she read off of the screen. I was still annoyed with her though.

"413?" I asked just to double check.

"Yes, 413," she corroborated.

I walked across the room to the flight of stairs, and proceeded to climb up to the fourth floor. The stairs creaked as I walked, which made the situation a tad bit eerie, considering that I was the only one in the stairwell. Arriving at the fourth floor, I walked down the brightly lit hallway, which was considerably louder than the stairwell or the lobby. I knocked on the door marked 413, and a short man, probably around five foot four, opened it. His hair was an orangey brown, kind of mousy in the harsh lights. He wore a white collared shirt, that was basically entirely wrinkled, and rather hideous pinstripe pants.

"Hi," he said, sounding exhausted.

"Hello. I've been told to find Tallon Lewis. Is that you?" I asked, looking down on the man, partially because of my tall height, and partially because of his sheer shortness.

"Uh yeah, that's me! What do you need? You know what, just come in," he stammered.

I walked into the room. It was a large office, with a large desk in the middle, and a chair behind and in front of it. There was a door on the left, and a large painting of Seattle for some reason, on the right. The desk was covered in piles of precariously stacked papers, random pens, but in the middle sat a large PC, that I could hear was making an irritating humming noise. Tallon turned around and sat in the chair behind the desk. He gestured to a bowl of mints on his desk, which sat atop a large pile of divorce papers.

"No thanks on the mints," I mumbled. My mother had always told me to not eat free food, for the reason of that it might be "pizened" as she put it. I decided not to mention the divorce papers, I was already disrupting him anyways, probably.

"What do you need?" He asked again.

"I've heard you're going to die"

AN: Helloooo! This is part one of two for this story. Thanks so much for reading it means a lot and all that other sappy stuff.

Word count: 866 (ugh not very long I know)