His pen tapped erratically against the creaking oak beneath him--his right foot nestled in worn out docker shoes tapping out an inharmonious rhythm along with it--while his office chair creaked with each rocking of nervous energy as he bounced between the open book in front of him and the figure leaning against his doorframe. Stubble rubbed harshly against the collar of his open sweat stained button down and his nose twitched at the smoke curling up from the still lit cigarette he had put down in the overflowing ashtray just moments again. But still his attention never wavered between the two entities that had the hairs on his unwashed body raised in alarm. "An-...and that's all I have to do? That's it?" He hated how his voice seemed to rasp so loudly in the narrow room, the sound of overwhelming city life somehow muffled out as if there was a bubble around them. The figure nodded, a ...