Part Two. In which the news is delivered

Fergus Anderson was a typical city lawyer in which he wore a tailored suit that was worth more then most people made in a month and carried a briefcase just as pricy. He adjusted the tie around his neck as he trudged from his car and towards his destination.

Today he was delivering the final will and testament of the late Arnold Grey to the closest living relative whom just so happened to live in the city. It was an odd little bit of work that he was doing, seeing as the lawyer in the small little town in which the late Mr. Grey lived in dared not come to the big city to do the job himself. So the business got shuffled off to himself.

Fergus cleared his throat as he double checked the papers in his hand that contained the address of one "Brian Grey" before knocking diligently on the door and waiting patiently for an answer. He grumbled a little, checking the rolex on his wrist and hoping the monotonous job wouldn't take any more time out of his day.

Fergus sneered a little as he clicked the automatic door locks on his Porsche. The apartment building was modest. Full of small people who lived small insignificant lives. The idea that he was delivering the last will and testament of a dead lunatic to his painfully average nephew. A man hundreds of miles away who had never visited his only living relative.

He rapped at the off white door to apartment 24 b. A young man pulled it open heavily leaning on a braced cane. His thick blonde hair was neatly combed and his cheap button up cotton shirt was wrinkled. He was about as average and forgettable a man as they come and the only thing more sparse and bland in this little picture was his department store bargain hunting decor. He smiled a little nervously at Fergus and spoke quietly.

"Can I help you?"

"Brian Grey?" Fergus adjusted his glasses on his sharp nose judging the young man sternly.

"Y-yes?" He pushed against the door as though ready to slam it shut should the wrong answer come.

"Mr. Grey, I am Fergus Anderson representing Solomon and Solomon. We spoke on the phone in regards to your uncle's will." He frowned at him already pulling up his briefcase and digging through papers. The young man relaxed considerably.

"But I never called you back."

"That's precisely the problem." Fergus showed himself in and sat on the pleather couch with a small cringe.

Brain staggered slightly, frowning at the lawyer. "S-So you came all the way out here?" He chewed at his lip in thought as he stared at Fergus just sitting on his couch like he owned the place but clearly didn't want it.

"You are needed to go out there and take care of your Uncle's estate. As the closest living relative, you were chosen to deal with this. You can either sign the place over to the state to be demolished or what have you." Fergus growled out as he sat there, looking at Brian over the edge of his glasses. This was already taking longer then he desired, his patience running thin.

"Is it necessary though? Can't you find another family member to take care of this?" Brian shifted a little on his brace, hoping that he'd be able to get out of this. He meant no insult to his Uncle but the idea of taking off work and traveling halfway across the country just to take care of things was not something he wanted, or could afford, to do at this current moment in time.