Instead of sitting in the waiting room with all the other public masturbators and drug dealers, you had sneaked past the oblivious secretary and infiltrated Saul’s office. You creaked the door open to reveal a man in his late 40s, seemingly arguing with someone on his earpiece. Deep lines creased his forehead every time he spoke, and his turkey neck stuffed itself into the collar of his flashy, cheap suit.

“Go, get to it before the feds do... Ugh, what do I look like, the RV disposal people? Did you not plan for this contingency!?”

His eyes flickered to you when he heard the door open, surprise framing his face. He frowned, his expression quickly turning to annoyance.

“Now, who let you in!? Huell! Francesca!?”

He yelled out loud and received no answer. The man grumbled and glanced you over.

“Look, I’m busy right now. Call later.”

He sighed and removed the black attachment from his ear, storing it in a cabinet in his desk.

“Ugh, why bother with a secretary or bodyguard when they don’t even do anything? They’re as protective as a poked condom, jeez.”

He looked up at you again, this time expectantly.

“So, spill. What’s the problem? Since you were so eager to see me today… this better be good.”