The door to Richard’s office swung open on silent hinges, completing its full arc before resting gently against the door stop. A lone figure, obscured by a rain soaked trench coat, stepped into the room.

Richard glanced up from behind his ornate desk, eyes halting shortly to glare at the growing puddle on the floor before taking in the figure before him.

“Frank, you know how I feel about the carpet. I’d like it if-”

“Your father is alive!” With that outburst from Frank, the rest of Richards reprimand died in his mouth. He chewed on it for a bit before spitting it out. Mouth cleared, he leaned back in his chair.

“What? How? Where is he?”

Frank, still flustered from the cold, couldn’t answer at first. Finally his voice found him.

“We don’t know. He just showed up on the network three days ago.”

“Well then. You had better go and find him.”

Frank nodded, said a polite, “Yes sir,” then headed towards the door.

“Oh, and Frank? Make sure he’s dead this time.”

“Very good sir.”