With an abrupt change in his facial expression, Gibson's countenance appeared to contort into a displeased grimace. His eyebrows furrowed and he fixed an intense glare upon the middle-aged man standing before him, who coincidentally happened to be the designated manager of the establishment. "Pardon me, sir," Gibson interjected in a clear and steady voice, "but based on the information provided to me, I was led to believe that this was an accommodation facility of the utmost caliber, boasting a seven-star rating, if I'm not mistaken. However, given the manner in which you are presently conducting yourself, I find myself compelled to question the validity of that initial assumption." In response to Gibson's measured rebuke, the manager issued him a contemptuous once-over, accompanied by a sneering remark intended to belittle him: "A guest? You appear to resemble more of a beggar than a patron in my estimation."The manager, feeling displeased and agitated, gestured vigorously towar
Gibson hadn't seen President Adams for quite some time, and his face lit up with a genuine smile as he caught sight of the esteemed President approaching him. President Adams, known for his respectful demeanor, made his way over to Gibson, acknowledging who he was and with a hint of remorse in his eyes."I must apologize for everything that just transpired young Master," President Adams sincerely stated, understanding the gravity of the situation. Gibson, although not taken aback by the President's unexpected apology, managed to compose himself and respond."Thank you, Mr. President," Gibson replied with a calm yet disappointed tone. "It's disheartening how people tend to judge solely based on appearances, without getting to know the person behind them."Meanwhile, the onlookers in the reception area were left in a state of shock, witnessing the President's unexpected interaction with Gibson. They had always held a preconceived notion that Gibson was someone to be disregarded, and th
The manager's eyes widened, fear coursing through his veins as he mustered the courage to speak. "Who... who are you?" His voice quivered with apprehension, his hands trembling involuntarily.Gibson, wearing a mischievous grin, leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No need to be afraid, my dear manager. You won't be losing your job," he reassured, his voice laced with a comforting tone.A wave of relief washed over the manager, visible in the way his tense shoulders relaxed and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had dodged a bullet and learned his lesson well, feeling grateful for the lifeline he had been thrown.Meanwhile, President Adams, his expression etched with remorse, stood before Gibson, his gaze filled with genuine regret. "I deeply apologize for what transpired," he uttered, his voice carrying a heavy weight of guilt.Gibson, his humility shining through, simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture. "No need for apologies, Mr. President. It's
Israel sat down, his brow furrowed in confusion as he mulled over whether he should accept the tempting offer before him. "Should I really take the money?" he pondered aloud, his voice filled with uncertainty.As he weighed the pros and cons, vivid images of the consequences played out in his mind. He saw himself living a life of luxury, free from financial worries, but at the cost of compromising his values and integrity. Deep down, he knew that money wasn't worth sacrificing his principles."No," Israel finally declared firmly, his conviction overpowering the lingering temptation. "I won't let greed cloud my judgment. There are things more important than wealth."Gibson, who had been observing Israel's internal struggle from a distance, smiled knowingly. Understanding the battle Israel had just fought within himself, he approached and placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "We would still get to talk again, Israel," Gibson said with admiration in his voice. "You might ha
Cynthia took a long sip of the exquisite whiskey, her face flushing with a mixture of excitement and alcohol. Jonah, sitting beside her, had already indulged in three bottles of the finest wines, his laughter echoing throughout the VIP section. The waitstaff couldn't help but beam with delight as they observed the two friends immersed in their own world of merriment.As the night wore on, a group of strippers, enticed by the jovial atmosphere, joined Cynthia and Jonah at their table. Cynthia, now teetering on the edge of drunkenness, couldn't hide her disinterest. Slurring her words slightly, she managed to express her desire for privacy."I-I just want us to have some space," Cynthia mumbled, her speech slightly slurred. "These lovely ladies, they're... they're very kind, but we need a moment alone."Jonah, barely able to contain his laughter, chimed in, "Yeah, give us a breather, ladies! We'll catch up with you in a bit!"The strippers, understanding Cynthia's wish, graciously excus
Israel, Jonah's father, found himself drowning in a sea of debts, the consequence of his reckless spending habits. His company, once thriving, now teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. Frustration and regret gnawed at him, clouding his judgment and leaving him vulnerable to the mounting pressures of his financial turmoil.Back at the club, Jonah's desperation escalated as each call to his father went unanswered. He couldn't comprehend why his pleas for help fell on deaf ears. Fear coursed through his veins as he paced the dimly lit VIP section, his mind racing with worries and what-ifs."Come on, Dad, please pick up," Jonah muttered anxiously, his voice laced with desperation as he dialed his father's number once again.But the phone continued to ring, echoing through the empty spaces of his hopes and dreams. No response, only an agonizing silence that deepened his sense of abandonment."He's not answering. What am I going to do?" Jonah whispered to himself, his voice filled with a mix
Israel's heart skipped a beat as he glanced at his phone and saw the manager of the Deluxe club's name flashing on the screen. A surge of anxiety rippled through him, and a flurry of questions raced through his mind. Had the manager changed his mind about their arrangement? Could there be some unforeseen consequences awaiting him?His mind connected the dots, and a realization washed over him. This might be the same club his son, Jonah, had mentioned earlier. Fear clenched Israel's heart as he contemplated the implications.With trembling hands, Israel mustered the courage to answer the call. His voice quivered slightly as he greeted the manager, the worry evident in his tone. "Hello, this is Israel Bieber. Is everything alright?"<
"Thank you for everything today," Cynthia expressed gratefully to Jonah as they stood in front of Cynthia's house. Her eyes shimmered with appreciation, reflecting the depth of her emotions.Jonah's face lit up with a genuine smile, his voice filled with warmth. "No, I should be the one thanking you," he replied, sincerity lacing his words. "But most of all, I am truly happy for you and the remarkable progress you've made with your own company. It's inspiring."Cynthia's cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and humility, touched by Jonah's words. She reached out to grasp his hand gently, her grip filled with affection and support. "Come inside and meet my mom," she urged him, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.Jonah hesitated for a moment, a flicker of hesitation clouding his expression. "I... I'd love to, Cynthia," he began, his voice tinged with regret, "but I'm afraid I can't today. I have some urgent matters to attend to."Cynthia's smile faded slightly, disappointment sh
Gibson sat beside his mother who came to drive him back from work. She was waiting for her husband when they got home from a long case which had taken up most of the afternoon. He’d finished at three and would be taking a nap. The day was hot but sunny, and he was glad that he didn’t have to stay in uniform. His dark brown suit and tie had seen better days, but he liked it well enough because it gave him a nice look, unlike other officers whose uniform made them feel like they were going to go postal. He felt relaxed as he sat in his truck with the AC blasting full blast. It was almost too hot out. Not that anything bad could happen to him, he knew there were a lot of things worse than being a policeman. In fact, the more dangerous jobs tended to fall into the hands of the very few people capable of doing the job right. They couldn’t afford someone else. That’s how it worked.His father worked undercover with some pretty scary looking characters. But that wasn’t unusual. People did
‘If I had been faster maybe he would still be alive’“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me that he’s part of this?” she asked angrily.He could feel his throat tightening again. He hadn't realised how badly he needed to talk to someone but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Abby the truth. The more he talked about what had happened the more convinced he became that he should tell her. She deserved to know the truth, no matter how painful and difficult it might be. And besides, it would probably help her work things out. It would probably help everyone if Abby knew the whole story. He sighed deeply, knowing it was going to hurt her but hoping she'd listen anyway."I didn't want to scare you" he admitted softly.She shook her head violently, getting angry
“Hi Gibbs! Have you seen Joseph? I've tried to get hold of him but he is ignoring my call!” She exclaimed, hurrying toward him.Jacob simply rolled his eyes. “Noticed. He has been acting strangely lately.” He replied, staring at his cellphone.Abby shrugged slightly. “Maybe he got a call and forgot to reply?” She suggested, wondering why the younger agent hadn't answered her message, although that couldn't have been it. They were both supposed to meet up together today and he clearly had no idea.“That doesn't seem like it. He said something about meeting me here at seven and yet he didn’t show up until nearly six thirty and we left the FBI Building at five forty five” he explained.Abby thought about what Jacob had said and made a mental note to ask Tim a
Gibson left his office very early that night and decided to go out to dinner with a friend. It was something he always did when the day started to drag on and it was still relatively new for him. He wasn't used to working long hours and so he enjoyed being able to go out without any work in tow. Plus, his friend could be a bit of an eccentric and they had never gotten along too well but they also understood each other. And since his best friend was a journalist and his own editor, their friendship worked like a magnet.He went to his usual restaurant and picked a spot near the window because it looked out over a small garden. There were few people milling around outside and most lights inside were off. This made it easy for him to sit with his back against the wall and enjoy his meal before heading home. As he ate he saw two young ladies approach one another and start talking animatedly while giggling about whatever. He smiled to himself as he continued chewing, watching them with amu
Gibson's voice echoed through the office as he stared at his mother, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. Colleagues turned to see what the commotion was about, creating an awkward silence. His mother, wearing a hesitant smile, approached him, breaking the tension in the air. "Surprise, dear. I thought I'd drop by and see where you spend your days," she said, trying to lighten the mood. Gibson, still processing the unexpected encounter, struggled to find words in the midst of the curious gazes around him.Gibson, still grappling with the shock, managed to stammer out a response, "I... What are you doing here, Mom? I didn't expect you to visit my workplace."His mother, a middle-aged woman with a warm demeanor, chuckled nervously. "Well, I wanted to surprise you, dear. Your father and I thought it would be nice to see where our hardworking son spends most of his time."Gibson's mind raced as he tried to comprehend the situation. He never imagined his mother would appear unannou
Gibson couldn’t feel his arms again as he had over used them at the his workplace earlier that day. He had tried to carry a huge amount of paperwork for his boss’s office when he had gotten home, but it had been too much, and had dropped everything. The paper had made little to no dent in his overall mass, so he’d put on a shirt to protect it from the cold of the night. When it started to rain while he was on his way back to the office, however, he had lost all hope of getting the papers back to his boss before the storm began. So here he was again. He sighed and walked around the corner of an apartment building with no door visible, trying to get some cover from the rain by leaning against one of its walls. It seemed like the right decision, however, as he could see that the entrance to the apartment building was only five feet away, so it was just about possible for him to get inside without the water being wet through. He pushed off from the wall and started walking towards the ent
“I want to speak to Gibson,” the light skinned lady said sternly as she entered the office, her voice low and dangerous. It was not a question, it was an order, and the man at the desk knew better than to disobey it. He quickly picked up his phone and dialed Gibson’s number. The woman waited impatiently as he tried to connect the two calls, and when that failed, she turned to face him expectantly. Her face was hard and determined and made her eyes look darker than they normally would. She had dark circles under her eyes that made them seem bruised. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her hands clasped behind her back. She looked like someone who was about to get her way, which was probably true. She stood there looking intimidating until Gibson answered his cell, “Yes? Is everything alright?” His voice sounded worried and confused, and the woman felt a pang of guilt for scaring him with what she had been going to say earlier. “Hi Gibson, it’s me. I just... need a little help to
Gibson read through the book he found on his office desk and grimaced at it. There was no reason to be upset about it, really, but he couldn’t help himself - he had been doing so well with this one! He had made a decent dent in his stack of files, he even had written half of what he needed for the article, which meant that he had to do something else soon! It wasn’t like him to let things drag out like this, but after last night - well, if there was anything that could get the better of him, it was stress, and stress sucked. He should have known better than to get distracted by that guy’s phone number, though! He didn’t deserve the chance, not when Gibson was just beginning to work his way up. But it was all gone now. He had forgotten the date, and he could barely remember any details from before he went home last night, and the only time he had remembered them was during the day. And then, well, then there were all those people who were still in his head - the ones who kept talking
Gibson was forced to sing along at his business tea party. The woman he was with was a big fan and the song seemed appropriate enough that she started humming it loudly as they talked about her latest book. He couldn’t help but be envious of this person, this girl who knew so many interesting things and had such an exciting life, yet he was stuck here in the boring office of a company that made no money. He wasn’t complaining though - the pay sucked ass and being alone in the room with his boss all day was probably worse - but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. The woman continued to hum and sing, which annoyed him even more, and eventually she looked up and smiled when she realized what she was doing. “Oh, sorry! I keep singing! I do this sometimes to help myself think. I have trouble not singing if I can't talk to someone. It helps my brain to get away from reality.” She paused for a second, seemingly lost in thought before she shook herself out of it. “Sorry you have to list