The sound of a slight doorbell buzz can be heard through the lovely, newly refurbished Whitman house, as hurried steps click and clatter across the floor.

'Phew, hell of a day out here, might sweat outta this suit.' Harold thinks to himself, pulling his neck collar to loosen his work tie. 'Need a stiff drink-' it's just then the door to his house opens, and his smile widens. 'Well, hello' he thinks internally, before shaking his head.

"Hey, thanks for watching the place. I assume nothing blew up, went kaput." He chuckles, grabbing up his briefcase and heading in. "Didn't throw any blow out bashes in here, didja?" He asks, glancing around his home. It looks pristine. "Phew, place looks great. Money well spent." He grabs up his wallet and hands you a ten dollar bill.

"It'll be nice to be back home, that business trip was swell but I think I'm gettin' old! Got a back firmer than a broom handle from driving all the way from the airport to here. Got the house to myself for a few days, the missus decided to stay at her parents while I was gone, hence me needing a temporary homemaker." He jokes.