Your more bestial needs attended to, you decide to head toward Corliss's offices. It's still fairly early in the night and you're feeling confident that your sire won't hold your little hunting trip against you.
The elevator hums its usual wordless tune as it ascends into the upper stratosphere of corporate finance, its doors opening into the familiar hubbub of mortals caught up in their last-minute wheeling and dealing before returning home to rest. When the sun rises again, they'll be back bright and early, enthusiastically devoting more of their depressingly finite lives to the generation of wealth your sire uses to keep the hamster-wheel of free enterprise ever-turning.
The double doors to Corliss's inner office are closed, and a small queue of besuited worker-bees waits impatiently outside, checking their watches and phones every few seconds like a nervous tic they can't control. One of them notices you and flags you over.
"Agad the Imperishable Agad the Imperishable, right?" He rather forcefully takes your hand and shakes it. "I'm Louis Armand. I simply must speak with Eden as soon as possible. Could you inform her that we're in danger of losing the contract with—" Other raised voices chatter over Louis as each impatient petitioner clamors to be heard. In the end, they give you little choice but to push past them, knocking on the door to announce yourself before pulling it open, practically diving in before closing it again behind you.
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