The Hardest Person To Know Is Yourself


aric_icon.gif cardinal_icon.gif monica_icon.gif

Scene Title The Hardest Person to Know is Yourself
Synopsis Endgame group therapy?
Date August 24, 2010

Redbird Security: Basement

At the bottom of the stairs there's a sturdy metal-reinforced door, locked not with an electronic mechanism but with an old-fashioned mechanical combination lock. A bright yellow biohazard sign is hung up on the door.

Once through the door, the basement is mostly open space interspersed with support columns of grey brick. A thick layer of grey latex paint covers the walls and floor, the ceiling overhead tiled with squares of sound-suppressing foam. A few filing cabinets are pushed up against the near wall, and a single computer desk, the box unconnected to anything except for power, sits between some of those cabinets. The rest of the front part of the roomis an area with folding chairs around a table and a pull-down screen across from a podium with a projector sitting on top of it, evidently for meetings. Deeper in the room, two dozen free-standing posts with sand-filled bases are scattered about, with strings and lines of yarn of all manner of colours connecting them. Post-it notes and photographs have been attached here and there with little pieces of tape. The far wall, behind the string map, bears the legend in stark white block letters upon the grey that stretches across most of the wall and from floor to ceiling: 'FIGHT THE FUTURE'.

The right third of the room has been divided from the rest by a wall of bulletproof glass and metal framing, accessed by a simple glass door near the main entrance of the basement. Inside, three locked gun cabinets sit against the wall, and the rest of that section of the room has been turned into two shooting lanes. Cheap pulley assemblies on the ceiling attached to electric motors hold target posters.

The soft 'click' of a metal clip's teeth together closes it around a string that stretches across the midst of the web, a photograph hanging from it. Richard Cardinal's hand dips into the manilla envelope in his hand, pulling out another photograph with a clip, and he moves to carefully step over a low string and duck under a high one, reaching to snap it carefully in place. The scuff of shoes and the snap of metal clips is loud in the basement, whose soundproofing and thickly-painted walls keep the echoes within.

Lunch - such as it is - is still sitting on the table, a bag with the McDonald's logo next to a cardboard container with a partly-eaten Big Mac in one half and a scattering of fries in the other. There's a cup, the straw sticking up at an angle.

There's a tiny warning knock at the basement door before it unlocks and Monica peeks her head in. Her own lunch appears to be a cup of to-go coffee from a little mom and pop shop.

"Hey boss. Hard at work, I see." She steps over toward the strings to peek at what he's adding to the mix, in her familiar black workout clothes (does she even know anything else?). "Am I interrupting or can I bend your ear?"

As he walks in not to far behind Monica, Aric has a carrying case. He knows these hero types don't take care of them and he has not been able to sleep as of late. He was up at 5am cooking and decided to make some food for Cardinal and his crew.

He walks into the basement and pauses to look around, "Hello?" He moves to set the large basket on the table. He wrinkles his nose looking at the McDonalds bag and says, "That shit will kill you." He begins to pull out containers and sets them on the table before him. The smell is amazing. Vegtables, Meats, and spices. "Real Chinese cooking…not that shit from the corner."

"You ever tried to map the future before? It's not as easy as it looks…" A quiet chuckle stirs past Cardinal's lips, and he straightens, looking over through the string web, "…sure, go for it. I'll, uh." He looks around himself, hands spreading a bit, the envelope in one, "I'll come to you. Gimme a minute. You can start talking, though!"

Then Aric arrives with a bag of home-cooked chinese, and he calls over as he starts to pick his way through the maze of strings, "I'm surrounded by cooks. I'm gonna have to start hiding my fast food, aren't I?"

"And frankly, it doesn't look all that easy," Monica says with a crooked smile. She scoots back to hop herself up onto the desk, sitting with her legs folded. "I've just been sort of debating a couple things. Thought you might have some advice." Because Richard is her wise man on the mountain now?

She's just sipping at her coffee when Aric makes his way in, and she chuckles. "Between you and Liz, we shall never go hungry. Which is definitely a plus."

As he begins to open the containers there is steamed vegatables, home made dumplings, and more. "Well you guys need to keep up your strength." He looks at the fast food bag and snorts, "That is not food. It is a heart attack in a bag. Come and eat something that will keep up your strength." Aric moves to grab a water he brought and sits on in a huff. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at Monica, "You too…I am sure you have not eatten a real meal in a few days."

"…and Niklaus bakes, too. Man makes a mean scone," Cardinal admits, stepping over the last string from the map's edge - which of course means that as his other foot lifts, he gets overconfident and snags it. A momentary wavering on one foot, arms flailing to catch his balance, then he manages to free his foot without pulling the whole future down with him, landing on both feet and holding still for a moment.

Really, the whole incident makes a good metaphor for what he does in general.

"I'm good. I'm good…" He heads for the table, then, tossing the thick envelope onto it, "So what's up, Monica?"

When the telepath's attention comes her way, Monica gives her most surprised and innocent look. Which probably means he hit the nail on the head. "I swear, I eat!" She does sort of hide that coffee behind her, though. >.>

"Niklaus, too, huh? Sheesh. You sure you don't want to open a restaurant instead, Rich? I mean, I can grill the heck out of some burgers." When he nearly falls, she looks like she's about ready to hop up and help, at least to save the future if not Cardinal's backside. But, he manages to keep it together and she chuckles instead. She did not miss the metaphor.

"A couple things. I guess the most important is this whole registration thing. I know I don't want… Well, I guess I can only see a worst case scenario as far as what happens when the wrong people find out what I can do. I mean, we did just liberate a building full of what happens, you know how it goes. And I do have Micah, who could pull off something. Or could play it safe and just… downplay what I got. But then I was thinking about just not registering at all." Her arms fold there, she's clearly not going for the food just yet. "I'm sorta stuck on which way to go."

Aric takes a bite of his vegtables as he sighs, "She has a point. I am not thrilled with the idea of anyone knowing what I can do. The government gets win of what I can do I can only imagine what they will want me to do for them. I have heard some of those offical's thoughts. They don't think kindly on us. I would rather avoid registering at all if I can some how."

"Xiulan's dropped off the map, or we'd have the perfect solution there… I wish we had an illusion-caster," Cardinal admits with a slow shake of his head, dropping himself down into a chair and reaching over for what's left of the Big Mac. Maybe nobody'll notice. "What we need is some way to alter the color of the tests when they register. If all else fails, and I know the Ferry is working on a solution— lie about what you can actually do. Monica, you could probably get by registering as 'having better reaction time than most people' or something. Aric, hm."

"I've never seen how they work. Is it possible to get… a sample? You know, like beating a drug test, sorta?" Monica nods at the news about the Ferry, and she lets out a heavy sigh. "Will a solution come in time? To tell you the truth, I'm a little worried about what happens after the 31st." She shifts, bringing her knees up to her chest, the heels of her shoes perched on the edge of the desk.

"Aric could claim intuition, maybe. He can read people. So to speak." Tarot, read people. She's trying to ride humor through the paranoia, apparently.

Aric cocks his head to the side, "Can't they tell via genetics what we all can do?" Aric presses his lips in a fine line as Cardinal finishes his fast food meal and leaves him be on the fact. He folds his knees to his chest in his chair and sighs, "I won't lie…kind of scared to see what will happen if I don't register."

"Oh, no, no…" A bite, swallow, and the sandwich is set down, Cardinal's head shaking, "…all they can tell is if you're Evolved or not, they can't get your specific ability. Kaylee's registered as a broadcast-only telepath, but there's a hell of a lot more she can do. I know other people that've gotten away with 'I don't know what my ability is, it hasn't manifested' but then they probably have you check in occasionally or something."

He exhales a sigh, then, leaning back in his chair, "I don't know. It's gonna be… if they start rounding up people this soon…"

"Yeah, don't worry about that. If you can dream up a workable lie, they won't know what your ability really is." Monica slips off the desk as Cardinal speaks, apparently needing to pace. "Yeah, I doubt we'd be able to get away with that one for very long. Unfortunately." Those last words get her to look over at their boss with a sharp glance. "I'm going to quit school. I know Nana would probably smack me, being as close to being done as I am. But with all this. And November looming off there in the distance…" She doesn't finish, she just shakes her head. Prioritizing.

Aric sighs and says, "Cardinal…I am not going to lie. I am kind of scared. With this all going into play and the idea of them "rounding" us up, should I not register at all. And this Kaylee woman…where is she? I am not completly useless when it comes to ability yet if I can get better with it. Maybe I can find a way to defend myself with it. Its that or I might have to learn how to use a gun." Aric frowns clearly at that idea.

"The alternative's getting arrested and giving them an excuse to round you up," Cardinal gives his head a tight shake, grimacing for a moment, "If they list you as Tier 1 and don't think much of you, you should be fine… assuming we can't figure out a way to bypass it entirely. You could go underground, but— then you won't be running your store. As for Kaylee, I'll try to get a hold of her, she's in hiding with the Ferry right now." He looks to Monica, then, frowning, "Why quit school?"

"Because! Because how long do you think it'll last before they're asking for proof of registration before your can sign up for classes. Because November eighth has made me think about how I want to spend my time. Because I'm a better fighter than I am business major. When push comes to shove, I pick this," Monica says with a wave of her hand that seems to be a bit all encompassing. "I am, I'm twenty-four and still in college. You know how many classes I had to drop because of PARIAH or Phoenix or running off to New Orleans? And let's not talk about jobs. I've been fired more times than I'd like to think about. Some people can juggle both. I don't think I'm one of those people."

"Your always welcome to work at the cafe. Its not Harvard or Wall Street yet its a job." He offers with a smile, "I have to agree. I don't know as much as Monica about Novemeber but I have…well I do know someone's supposed fate and I told her I would all in my power to help stop it from happening. Even if I have to learn how to shoot people in the knees and ankles to keep them from hurting us. I just am scared to death about registering. What if they have a telepath of their own or someone who can read lies? I want to avoid it until the last possible moment…if I can."

"At least you can be sure I'm not going to fire you," Cardinal points out to Monica, gesturing to her with his cup of soda, "I get your meaning, though, Monica… hey, at least you've got an interesting resume?" A sip's taken from the straw, and then he looks to Aric, frowning a touch, "What'd you pick up about the eighth, Aric? Anything we can get, we might need for…" He waves vaguely in the direction of the string map.

The wind goes out of her sails with those first words from Cardinal, her hands propping up on her hips. "Well, there is that. Can't you let a girl rant for a while without throwin' sense in there?" Letting out a playful huff, she looks over at Aric. "I'll keep the offer in mind, thanks. Never know when you might need more work." She glances over at the strings, her fingers tapping against her hips. "It's gonna get messy pretty soon, huh?"

"It is not my place to say I think Cardinal. It is something I took from someone's mind when she allowed me to scan her for another reason. Yet I did make a promise to help her in any way I could from it happening. What has me concerned is she has marked herself for death already in a way." Aric sighs and says, "I hope we can avoid that for a number of us."

"…right," Cardinal sets his drink down, a sigh whispering past his lips as he raises one hand to rub against his face, "Everyone and their mother says they won't talk about things. It's too personal, or they promised someone else— and that's why we don't have the information we need to stop this." His tone a bit frustrated, his hand drops and he reaches for his fries, shaking his head tightly, "I understand, though. Not going to make you break a promise."

Monica turns more fully then, arms folding across her torso as she looks over at that representation of the future. "Let's hope so," she says to Aric's words, her voice a bit quieter. Even Cardinal's frustration doesn't get her to turn back around. Not yet. After all, those strings might just mean her own survival, too.

Aric sighs as he looks into his lap and whispers, "I would do the same for you if she asked me to tell your secrets." The telepath looks slightly hurt as he stands and begins to walk towards the door. "I should head back to the shop. Enjoy the food and make sure everyone eats something healthy."

"I know, I know…" Cardinal waves a hand vaguely, "…I'm not angry or anything, I wouldn't ask you to betray a confidence, just… frustrated." His hand falls back down, and he looks at the string maze just like Monica does, lips pursing in a grimace. It's not like you've told anyone what you saw yourself do that day, Richard. Hypocrite.

"It's a hard time. Blood's runnin' hot just now." Monica does turn then, stepping back over toward Cardinal to drop into a seat around the table. "Don't let Grumpy Bear over here run you off. He's just taken it upon himself to save the world," she says with a crooked smile over Cardinal's way. Before she steals a fry. >.>

Aric nods and says, "I will tell you this Cardinal. I will only reveal it only if I HAVE too. Yet something tells me you know who and what I am talking about." Aric leans against the wall near the door as he runs a hand through his long locks and looks back over at the pair.

"No idea, actually," Cardinal replies with a wry look over to Aric, "And it's not a matter of…" A pause, and he shakes his head, "Nevermind. Even I barely understand how to build one of these maps." He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, "Where the fuck is Nakamura when I need him."

"'When' is Nakamura might be a better question, yeah?" Monica says with a crooked smile. "Aric, no one wants you go back on your promise. You want to keep your integrity, and that's good. I mean, when it comes down to it, when you strip everything back, all you've got are your values." Yep, she's stealing another fry.

Aric shrugs as he says, "I have learned over the years it is best to reveal what someone is truely thinking only as a last resort. It saves alot of people from the pain of the truth. What is a Nakamura? Why do I know that name…are they big in China?"

"They're big in Japan, they run Yamagato Industries," Cardinal explains, "The one I'm talking about is Hiro Nakamura. He's a time traveler. There may be more than one of them, because time travel is fucking obnoxious."

"I never have gotten to ask him if it's like Back to the Future at all. As I recall, when I met him, he was very severe." Monica frowns at that particular memory before she shakes it off. "He's a good guy, though."

Aric blinks, "And I thought my ability had issues. Doesn't that mean being able to go back in time…can't he like cause temporal rifts and all that science stuff like….butterfly effect?"

"God, probably," Cardinal shakes his head, gesturing to the map, "There's all sorts of weird temporal shit — I mean, for instance — I know April Silver's alive after travelling here from the future, but her younger incarnation is dead, and if you think about it too much that will give you a serious headache." Wry, "Time is not a line, it seems."

"Unless it's all already happened and therefore part of the current timeline… anyway. Or somethin'." Monica looks over at Cardinal, then nods toward the strings. "It's a lot of lines, yeah?" Kekeke. And finally, she moves to grab some of that chinese food, stubbornness giving way to the smell of yumminess.

Aric nods and says, "Wow…so why can he go back in time and avoid the bomb? Wouldn't that shift things and solve SOOOOO many problems?" Aric turns his eyes on the string now curiously.

"It might cause more trouble than not," says Cardinal with a tight shake of his head, "I don't know the details, exactly. You'll have to ask him, if you— ever meet him."

"Solve some, create more. It's why this future work is so delicate." Monica looks over at Cardinal, her head tilting. "Yeah? No matter how the course changes, seems there's always rough water somewhere. I guess it means we'll never be out of work."

Aric nods and says, "I see. Well if I can help…you know I will. Cardinal can we start getting me trained on how to use a gun? In case I need to defend myself in the future and keep me updated on anything we come up with to get around registering? I am not gonna register until the last possible moment if I can. Yet I seriously should head back unless you need anything from me?"

"That's what we've got the firing range for," affirms Cardinal, his head bobbing in an easy nod to Aric, "Most of us can help you out, ah - Liz might be best at it, she's the only one with actual formal weapons training, as far as I know."

"You are in the right group for learning how to shoot. Although he's right about Liz there." Lord knows the thing Monica lacks is formal training. "I can help, but she'd be able to really explain things."

Aric nods and says, "Ok…I will talk to her. My offer stands Monica…even part time if you just need a break from life. I will be at the shop. I will come back tomorrow to pick up my tupperware. Call me if you need me Cardinal." Aric turns and continues to make his way towards the door.

A hand lifts as a farewell to Aric, and then it drops back down as Cardinal leans back in his chair with a sigh, "…speaking of work, have you talked to that Toby guy?"

Monica waves, too, a smile on her lips. "Thanks, Aric. I'll see you around soon." She settles back into her seat with her plate of goodies and looks over at Cardinal. "I haven't. I assumed he ended up not needing us, since he didn't get back to me. And then got so caught up in the run on Staten. I can poke at him, though, see if he still wants an extra body around."

"One of the people we rescued turned out to be the building's real owner," Cardinal muses, bringing it up to scratch at his chin, "Girl named Lynette. Turns out the building's actually a safehouse…"

"A Ferry safehouse?" Monica blinks there, it's all news to her apparently. "Small world." She looks over at him, her head tilted a bit, "That doesn't make it off limits or anything, does it?"

"Oh, hardly," Cardinal chuckles under his breath, "Hell, just about half of Endgame moonlights with the Ferry, to be honest. I just found it kind've amusing, is all, that he asked us without either of us realizing…"

"Yeah, and he doesn't know that we're anything but a security company," Monica points out with a chuckle. "Makes you wonder if everybody's part of some underground operation and we're all jsut so secretive about it."

A laugh, as Cardinal leans back, hands spreading a bit, "That'd be something. Every person in the world, secretly part of some secret organization… I can see it, too, honestly."

"You know, I can see it, too. And wouldn't be a bit surprised. Which probably means we've been at this too long." Monica shifts to prop her feet up on the table, never one to sit in the same position for too long. "What's the opposite of a skeptic? You know, someone comes up to you and says 'Hey, there's a clone of the president the morphed into a giant lizard and it's eating New Jersey!' and you just go 'Oh, well. I should have seen it coming.'"

"Quixotism." Cardinal's fingers stir through the french fries, and he plucks one from it, his tone turning wry as he admits, "Sometimes I wonder if I've just gone completely insane, to be honest. You don't know half the crazy stuff I do. I wouldn't know how to explain some of it."

"You know, they say if you worry about being insane, you probably aren't. When you really lose it, you'll be insisting you're sane as can be." Monica sets her plate down on the table at those last words so she can fold her arms on the arm of her chair and look over at him. "Try."

The french fry is tossed up, and Cardinal catches it in his mouth, chewing slowly as he considers that question. Then his chin drops back down, and he regards her steadily. "I once fought a man riding in a giant robot crab. The day was saved when Raith showed up on the back of a robot llama. Then, we made the giant robot crab fly away from an exploding mountain, while Kazimir - in Peter Petrelli's body - shouted 'To the Village!'."

Monica's life isn't that crazy. Yet. It's not exactly disbelief in her expression, but it's certainly a foreign concept. But what she says is a playfully flippant, "I should have seen it coming. When do I get a robot?"

"Ask Devi," Cardinal rolls his eyes, "I think she's trying to repair a giant robot spider right now. Warren built it to kill people, I Looney Tunes'd it to death."

"Reprogramming evil robots. That's a premise for a scifi flick if I ever heard one. Because inevitably they'd revert to their original programming and all hell would break loose. On a space station." Monica lifts an eyebrow there at the end, though. "Looney Tunes'd it to death? Does that mean you ran it off a cliff or you dressed up like a girl rabbit to distract it?"

"I'd look terrible in a dress," banters Cardinal with a roll of his eyes, "No, I got it to chase me, then I went two-dimensional against a wall. It was concrete. The robot kept going."

"Oh, I would have loved to see that," Monica says with a light chuckle for the tale. "Er- I don't mean the dress… there. Not that that wouldn't be worth a gander, too, though…"

A french fry is promptly flung at her. "Women," Cardinal's eyes roll, "I don't see you wearing a dress either."

There's a laugh when the fry hits her, blatantly amused. Hee! But, at the words that follow, Monica opens her mouth to reply… and then promptly shuts it again. "Alright, point."

"I always have a point." Cardinal shakes his head slowly, "Anyway, you should at least keep… maybe some online classes, or a class a week, or something? I mean, you don't have to bandon it entirely."

Monica lets out a sigh as he goes on. "To tell you the truth… it seems a little pointless. I mean, I know you're working hard to stop November eighth, and I know everyone's going to be trying to stop… whatever comes of all this registration stuff. But I'm not even sure it's what I want to do, I'm just doing it. I mean, I made the choice to go into business… before Katrina. Before my mom died. Before I manifested. Before PARIAH and Phoenix and crazy Nazi viruses and murdering futures. I keep telling myself I'm too young for a mid-life crisis, but…"

The last of the french fries is eaten, Cardinal's hand pushing the emptied container away. "Ah. Yeah, I can understand that," he allows, nodding over seriously, "So give it a pass for now. If you decide to go back — you always can."

"As far as non-world saving careers… this actually seems fairly perfect, considering. Aric mentioned sports, but I think I'd feel like I was cheating." Monica echoes his nod, smiling faintly. "That's pretty much how I handled it… you know, when I took off for New Orleans." And did the whole masked vigilante thing. <.< "What did you want to be? Before this," she says with a gesture toward the strings.

"Me?" Cardinal's shoulders lift in a shrug, and he leans back, arms folding across his chest and legs stretching out— one ankle resting over the other. "I was a thief. Didn't want to get too much attention, so I mostly stuck to jewelry, house safes, files that people'd pay for, that sort've thing."

"Uh oh," Monica says with a little hint of a smile, "You've been trouble your whole life, huh? So how'd you get into this gig, then? I never got to hear the origin story."

"Flint Deckard hired me to find a van," Cardinal admits, scrubbing a hand against the back of his neck, "I tracked it down and found Abby, who was locked in Logan's basement at the time, decided to help save her. Sort of… got involved from there on."

"Ahh, thief with a heart of gold, huh?" Monica shifts again, to sit cross legged in the chair after she scoots it to face him some. "Why in the world was Abby locked in a basement?"

"She still had her healing ability at the time… Logan and Muldoon were using her to heal up people between their slave gladiator fights," says Cardinal with a rough snort, his head shaking, "And I don't have a heart of gold. There's just some shit I won't deal with."

"Ugh, harsh," Monica says, her brow furrowing in a bit of disgust there. Barbaric! But when Cardinal goes on, her expression softens into friendly amusement. "I'm pretty sure that's the definition there, Rich. Or close enough."

"Yeah, yeah…" Cardinal scratches his chin a bit, his expression rueful, "…everyone keeps saying that. Don't blame me when I have to tell you that I told you so."

"Maybe we'll be the ones saying I told you so inn the end, ever think of that?" Monica reaches over to pat him on the arm, a little playful comfort there. "If you're bound and determined to be the black cloud of this operation, I suppose I'll be the rainbow. Or somethin'. I'm pretty sure Peyton will help."

"I suppose we'll see," chuckles Cardinal, his head shaking slowly, "I'm not the good guy here, Monica. I'm just doing what's necessary to make sure there'll still be good guys in the end."

"You don't think that makes you even a little bit the good guy?" Monica sits up some, hands dropping to her armrests as she looks over at him. "Things aren't so black and white, you know. You do what it takes, what's necessary. You have good intentions, Rich. Pure as the driven snow doesn't get very far when you run up against… the things this city runs up against. People sometimes… do bad things for good reasons. Good things for bad reasons. It's convoluted and twisted and… labyrinthine. We all just… try to make our way through, yeah?"

"What, are you my cheerleader now?" Cardinal's brows raise in mild amusement, gaze dropping down, then back up as he muses, "You might look nice in one of those uniforms…" A quiet chuckle, and he sits up, "Yeah, yeah, I know all that. I just hope that after it's all over, someone remembers me as something other than a monster."

"Don't push your luck, Rich," Monica says with a crooked smile. And a blush. "If I don't wear dresses, I really don't wear those little skirts." Although, at least those would still let her kick ass. But his last words, those get a more serious expression. "I'm sure someone will. I would even go so far as to say a few someones."

"A man can dream, can't he? I need to practice my flirting anyway, the only date I've had in ages crashed and burned because I couldn't get my head out of work…" A wry note twists through Cardinal's voice as he braces a hand to the table's edge, pushing himself up to his feet, "…and you're making a big assumption there, Monica."

"I think you're pretty alright at it," Monica says, as far as his practicing. "Well, that's a damn shame. But I hope Liz wasn't too hard on you about it. It's been busy lately, work." When he stands up, though, Monica reaches over to grab her abandoned plate, taking at least some advantage of the cooks around. "Maybe so. But they say when they money's split between two favorites, bet on the long shot," she teases gently, complete with wink.

"I wasn't talking about Liz," Cardinal chuckles, reaching out to gather up the garbage and stuffing it into the McDonald's bag, "We haven't done anything that could possibly be called a date in a long time."

Monica pauses there. Blink. Process. It's all pretty clear on her face. But, she doesn't seem to have anything bad to say about it, she just blushes a little more, embarrassed this time. "Wups." But at those last words, she lifts an eyebrow. "Maybe you should see about fixing that."

"I don't… well." A tight shake of Cardinal's head, the paper bag of garbage crumpled in his hand as he steps around the table, "Anyway. I'll talk to you later, I've got some shit I should be getting to…"

There's a moment where Monica just looks at him for a second, like she's got something to say, but she seems to opt out of saying it and instead, she stands up. "I'll see about a way to store all this," she notes with a gesture to Aric's feast, "I'm sure the others will have no problem devouring it. Thanks for the… the talk, Rich. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," Cardinal says, pulling open the door, "Anytime. Take care, Moni."

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