86. Mr Brad And Thomas Winnick.

Mr. Brax was once again in his office seat as he was usually, signing documents, making phone calls, and yelling at workers. He was always in a terrible mood. He was a big man with an imposing figure. Call him big boned and anything you want, anything but do not call him fat. He was not fat. He was merely big. The kind of size that ate up the room's space.

His body was almost always doing something, sometimes flinching, sometimes twitching, anything. But soon he went to rest. It was a very rare moment. One that was incredibly hard to see. Mr. Brax not, moving, bobbing his head, shaking his legs, twitching his fingers, could be said to be a moment, even rarer than the rarest spiders.

The phone rang and he was up moving again.

"I thought I had dealt with all my appointments for the day, who on earth is calling me?" He complained loudly as he reached out for the phone and shoved it on his ear. "Who is this?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Brax," a suave British accented voice said to him. "I did not n