Grigori glared the man down as the elevator approached its final destination. It’d been sent back up, so they only had a few moments left before they’d be exposed to the public for what they were. They’d have to drop the matter and leave it be for now.

He wondered if Howard set that up on purpose. People would grow suspicious if they were stuck inside this thing for much longer.

“Fine then, Mr. Fox,” he sighed. It felt like he was now the servant of a Thievul, and they worked for a glorious woodland mafia. “But don’t think I’ll let this go so easily. We will discuss this in the future.”

“You have my word on it.”

Ding! The tacky music stopped, and the doors slowly slid open. Back on the top floor, where he’d wanted to be the entire time. Without worry of Howard’s actions, and without fear of what was yet to come. Now, the future never seemed so uncertain as it did now. How potentially tumultuous.

How awful it felt. Like iron shackles that kept him from hiding. From staying away from those that might tread on him without so much as a backwards glance.

“Thank you for the leave, sir,” he said. With one final look, Grigori stepped off the elevator and quickly down the hall. He might as well make the best of this awful situation. Get things figured out, before the storm hit.

---

howard slayte