Robert Stottle had requested I be there in his office. Thank goodness for Mr Jrones extending my little 'vacation' because I didn't feel up to dragging myself through the hallway and to the lab. Unlike Mr Jrone's office, Robert's office is small, cramped, and not very fancy. He has a little rug under the desk. His desk is mostly a small kind of one and he has a 'Best rocket scientist' office mug on the left hand side of the desk. Right behind him on the wall is a picture of a man called 'Superman' flying in the air holding a woman with long black hair.

I am sitting in a uncomfortable chair.

"Sorry for the wait," Robert apologizes, coming into the room.

I had to wonder what the hell was in his mind putting in a large piano to the room.

"Apology accepted," I said. "Is this the janitors room?"

"Used to be," Robert said, coming over to the desk. He puts down a file then puts himself on the edge of the desk. "A man filed a complaint against one of our volunteers for hurting him and impairing his drive to save a girl from downing."

"Well," I said. "That is one serious case."

"The girl is dead," Robert said, letting the words hang there in the dead of seriousness.

"Oh, so I am the volunteer he's calling about," I said. "That he complained about; I mean."

"You have one sick sense of humor," Robert said, in disgust.

"I am not trying to be funny, Mr Stottle," I said.

"Then stop trying," Robert said. "And he has suffered numerous injuries from going after the girl. He is now a suspect in the death of the girl and her family."

"I am pretty sure you are not suppose to tell someone that," I said. "I am not on the case."

"And for that I am firing you," Robert said.

I clap for Robert.

"...Emily, stop that," Robert said.

"What?" I said, lowering my hands. "You have complaining about not being straight forward firing people." Robert is glaring at me. I know he is denying it. "If I could give you a trophy then I would...and I will show myself out, Mr Stottle."

I get off the seat watching Robert's face turn into a surprised one as if noticing something different.

"You always called me Robert," Robert said.

"Now, I am not," I said. "This is a fired worker and employer relationship. You are doing quite fine,Mr Stottle."

I turn away then walk towards the door.

In a nutshell Mr Stottle—that's how I should refer to him from now on—fired me because my actions resulted in the death of another. Though if I do come across a chance to make a trophy then I would make it, customize it, and ship it to Mr Stottle's house. Also a rose be shipped with the trophy a day after being ordered.

I open the door and left the room in silence.