Surveying the asphalt rafters she gazed along their chiseled waffle pattern; drizzled and framed with piping.  Along the walls starburst retrofitting scars decorated the common grey every three to four feet -  a logical artistry of construction there before her. She stood content to admire it as she continued to scan for any surveillance hidden in the plumbing clusters. 

Her ears perked for any other cars that may have followed her in since she arrived but she heard nothing but her own breath escaping.  This was a good time to take a mental snapshot.  The emptiness of the parking garage, the stillness, the calm – It was pure bliss.

Relenting, she flung open the passenger side door where her bag sat waiting.  Yanking it open she double-checked her inventory “…jump drive, ID badge…. keys… gloves.. Ipod...”

 “Okay I have 32 minutes to pull this off, roughly 7 songs…”  She moved her thumb over the click wheel  “Ahh… play list number six…”  

Slamming the car door secure and taking one last check of her lipstick in the reflection of the window she began toward the elevators “Oh shit… coffee cup…”

 ”Fucking…coffee cup… I can’t believe I almost forgot that.”

The little domed trash cans in the elevator hallway reflected a beautiful monster as she passed them.  Soon to morph crisscross and resurface in the tile of the elevator ceiling.  Looking up again for cameras, she saw what they saw and agreed.

Elevator travel to her was always a high-risk affair.  Knowing you’re stuck in a little box with virtually no escape but up into a dirty half-assed elevator shaft.  Knowing that if those doors accordion open the odds that your worst enemy is on the other side waiting for you are most favorable. 

"Looking on the bright side there aren’t any cameras in this elevator.”  She grinned a bit to herself.  “And the far right corner is compromised… that gap has to be at least three inches…. Three inches at six across divided by about 7 feet… how many tubes could we feed through that gap…”

The elevator came to a halt and paused momentarily before the doors slid open - she held her breath knowing that if she failed this mission she could be killed, or worse, the process would have to start over from the beginning.  The waiting, the strategizing, the chaos all over again.  Death she could live with, but the waiting?  No way. 

"Jesus that could take years…." she stepped cautiously over the threshold, peeking around the sizeable foyer of granite and tall paneled windows.  Pacing in a half moon around the building lobby she spotted three security cameras near the scan pad but didn't think it'd be much trouble, she concerned herself with the approach. 

Most jobs granted her solace in her self-wicking polysomethingorother suit and nylon cap.  Even her heat indexing gloves that had the ability to distort any latent prints would have been better than what she was equipped with at this moment - a business suit, high heels, hair in a tidy bun and her god-awful laptop briefcase that had definitely seen better days.  Potential for leaving trace behind?  Absoluely.  But that’s what this job was about, the obvious blending into the masses of early executives strolling into their offices - hopefully not deterred by new faces. 

Her mind snapped back to better times when all she had were faces.  Every day the same faces kept her cozy regimen in-tact.  The express bus downtown every morning, for example, held some of the strangest and yet fascinating faces.  Most of the time you chiseled and learned them,  studied features, until you knew whether they were having a good day or bad day by the way they wore their expression.

And then the lazy moments of getting coffee with her co-workers around 9:15 on the dot to pay a visit to that cute barrista who made your mocha with whip just right.  The lazy evening routine which normally consisted of a microwave dinner and a coke.  A badly composed romance novel, some time on gchat, curling into her blankets and wanting to dream. All the little things that made her feel accomplished and safe finally, and maybe a little like everyone else around her.  Vain Comfort.

But like a storm came change abruptly and with malice.  Damn that man and that plasticine table. 

Damn the homey Diner she thought would be alright to stop in that fateful morning; the one she had never gone to before, but always wanted to “check out”.   Damn that decision.

And damn the envelope that tempted her to open it.  Damn the locker key that slid onto that table with a ‘clink’ from that envelope as she dropped it in horror. And damn the words that made her jerk to grab the shiny gold bastard so quickly.

... 

“Understand that if you open that envelope you’re committing yourself to us long enough to fulfill your contractual obligation.”  The man sneered and snuffed his cigarette in the cheesy metal ashtray “Consider it a hand shake.”

“I told you I don’t push code any more.”  She chided as she fanned the smolder away from her face. 

“You’re right, you don’t…” The man chuckled with a throaty demeanor, “…you do Data Entry now.” 

“That’s right, I do.” 

“I see.  And this non-profit you work for…  They have obviously benefited from your Data Entry skills.  Why just the last three years they hit a record for donations just about every quarter did they not?”

“They did indeed.  Apparently their cause is all the rage.  We had great benefit functions, your point?” 

“I’m sure you shared with the Organization Chair that the bulk of its donations are miscellaneous ACH transfers from the savings accounts of some of the shadiest, nastiest characters in the Adult Entertainment Industry?”

“Hey, fuck you.  Those trust fund babies take advantage of society every day…  It’s about time they started putting some of their dirty money to good use.  I call it passive recycling... "

“Funny, I don’t remember this ingenious and stellar profit-bearing skill you call passive recycling on your last performance review.”  His eyes snapped to the unmarked envelope on the table “Aren’t you in the slightest bit concerned that the only thing between your life now and your life then is a thin layer of pulp and a postmark out of Omaha?”

Her eyes darted to the envelope skimming the post mark – sure enough, Omaha.  She furrowed her brow and felt the sweat of panic begin.  She hadn’t experienced this feeling in a long time.  As if a doused flame was now being re-sparked; and the combustion of the last seven years served as flint - this envelope the cottonwood. 

The man slid the envelope closer to her. 

“Omaha… There’s nothing for me in Omaha…”  Bluffing, her hand re-gifted the envelope to stale mate at the center of the table. 

It sat only for a moment before he pushed it back with a wide grin that exposed yellowing teeth from too many nights of sucking down Marlboro reds and black coffee “Perhaps not.. but there’s something for Omaha in you.”   

She snapped to attention, lips trembling, feeling fear teetering on physical illness “Now you're bluffing..."

"Am I?"  He retrieved a paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and unfolded it slowly  "You know we've been tracking you Molly, you're no idiot."

"And neither are you so let's go... and I better hear something like I have the days of the week embroidered in the crotch of my panties or you can go fuck yourself."  She strained to read the typing backwards and muted through the sunlight that caught the letter as he raised it to read. 

“Ahh well let’s see we have the 5:58am metro into downtown via the courthouse building… coffee at Tully’s… “ He paused, looking at her with condescending surprise “What, not a Starbucks fan?”

“No, I don’t like Starbu—“ 

“Because their coffee is too acidic and it bothers your stomach? I know.”  He grabbed his pack of Marlboros and snapped his lighter to ignite another  cancer stick he'd sucked from the pack.  “We have everything here, from your last physical check-up to your dental habits to your afternoon masturbation sabbaticals in the women’s restroom on the third floor.”

The blood drained from her face as he continued “Does the good Judge Consuela know about those?  My goodness the women’s restroom is right next to his chambers.  I do hope you’re not a screamer….” 

Taking a closer look at the document in his hands he squinted and then corrected with a drag of his smoke and a smile “… oh I apologize, apparently you are a screamer….it says right here.” 

“Sick fuckers have nothing else to do than track my masturbation."

"And your recent financial manuevers, not to mention all those little boxes you've stashed.  What's in those boxes Molly?"

"Boxes.  Well those would be shoes..."

"Shoes.  Green shoes?  The kind it would be a pity to bury."

"Okay this part of the conversation stops now.” 

Flustered, dizzy and mildly nauseous she feigned to grab the courage to walk away, but it seemed her own cowardess had her pinned  “Alright so you know shoes, blackmail, and that I mastubate... Congratulations."  She sank deep into the booth and tapped her finger on the table  "Tell me how is it that you’ve waited and collected all of this bullshit to corner some half-rate retired hacker like me?”

“That’s why your payment for services rendered lies in that envelope you keep shucking.” The man gleaned “I never said we didn’t pay a pretty price to confront you considering your volatility.  Honestly the answers to the questions you’ve been so diligently trying to numb from your mind for the last seven years is just a hand reach away and still you hesitate…. Why?” 

“I’m not interested in putting my ass on the line anymore.  Nothing in that envelope is worth the cost I paid and the pain I suffered to lose what I had.”  Her stern tone now took on a bit of a sarcastic whimper as she kept on “  Honestly there has to be faster, better, more accurate codists out there that will work on the fly for you people without all your envelope’s bells and whistles… Why me?”

“Why you?”  The man thought for a moment, pulled his smoke away from his face and leaned into the table with a snarl “Because you have a Treasury drive path you’ve kept to yourself for seven years, two assets in a supposedly undisclosed location that is no longer undisclosed might I add…” 

“Bastard” she hissed “Stay away from my assets.”

Ignoring her threats he lowered his voice to a whisper and went on “…furthermore we know you have devised an execution program that 'chats up' just about any security firewall including the infastructures of four Countries Government Agencies.” 

“You’re here for my program?  Fine.  We can trade the envelope for my program and my assets and we can call it a day.”

“No, no.  I’m afraid it’s not quite that easy…” The man exhaled a plume of smoke across the reach  “We figure you owe us for the good fuck-job you did to us before you 'died' the first time.  This time we get to fuck you… and you have to take it.” 

“Take.... Take your envelope and shove it up your ass.”  

She started to rise from the booth as the man played his last and most pertinent card, rushing his cigarette to his lips to pull on it with a wheeze  “Alright then, if none of those reasons are good enough for you to co-operate sweet, innocent Molly, then we can always speak of James… and how about that James?” 

Her eyes shut tight and her lips pursed.  She felt her fingers claw the peeling faux leather of the booth back  “And how about James?” 

“You must understand Molly there is really no choice.  It’s not ‘if’ you open that envelope, it’s only a matter of ‘when’.” 

At that moment she felt the pain of a thousand hammers beating at her skull as she slid back down into the booth at the diner… James.  It wasn’t much longer before she cringed at the sound of the envelope tearing open at her hands… and the feeling she’d given up – again. 

…

She ramped toward the security pad and swiped her card.  “Welcome Ms. Oliver” a voice called from the foyer.  She froze in partial panic and removed one of her ear phones; turning to the voice she spotted the  morning security guard making his rounds.  

Fuck… 26 minutes… Shit. She clutched her bag nervously and fumbled in her pocket at her Ipod to stop it.  “I’m sorry?” 

As he approached she could sense herself beginning to tremble.  The only thing worse than morning security guards are chatty morning elevator people.  Because morning security guards pride themselves on knowing the regulars of the building they protect;  especially when the building they protect is a national hub for highly-confidential banking information - with some of the biggest private accounts in the country. 

“Oh, I apologize…” The guard was now only feet from her, “I confused you with somebody else.  Is there something I can I help you with?”

“No I’m fine, just new so I’m still getting used to this badge-swiping doohickey you have here.”  In her mind she was counting the seconds lost thanks to this uninvited delay. 

“Ahh I see, no wonder I’d never seen you here before.  Which office are you working at?”

“Nendelson and Mattox“ She replied pulling out a business card she’d swiped from their booth at a career fair  months ago.  “First day, kinda nervous…” 

“Sixteenth floor right?"  The Guard grabbed her card, eyeballed it, and handed it back to her. "Well it will be nice seeing you around then, I’ll remember your face." The Security Guard pressed the Up button as she stood almost giddy at the irony of getting hit on by Security.  "What’s your name?”

“Katy”  the elevator door opened with a ding and she entered smilling over her shoulder  “It was nice meeting you….?” 

“Rob,”  the Security Guard grinned “Names Rob.”

“Nice meeting you Rob, see you soon” The doors closed and she was off to the sixteenth floor – now with a negative time of one minute and thirty seconds.  Turning her Ipod back on and feeling a little uneasy about being in another elevator, she considered whether she’d have to shave that time off of her ‘drive’.  

It’s going to be dicey enough stalling the system to input everything manually and quickly enough to not cause any commotion in the server logs…  She secured her balance with the steel hand rail as the elevator rushed upward.  Smiling, she straightened her jacket and brushed off the lint on her shoulder – setting her lap top bag on the carpet near her feet.  As the elevator came to a halt the bag tipped over and out onto the floor fell a black and gold pen. 

Well, she’d have to wing it. 

Not paying any attention to the wayward writing utensil she collected her bag and began out into the hallway.

Curving and winding through the long narrow corridors bereft of any active life; she felt comfort in the music that created her virtual soundtrack.  Seemed with each new intersection of hallway to tackle, the chorus would give way to a verse – In perfect timing.   Like a mouse in a maze she feined to remember the directions she'd scrawled on her bedside notepad when she'd received the orders.  Is it right left here?  Or left and then right?  Shit I don't remember. 
The sixteenth floor screamed of rich offices - the smell of the leather furniture, a peek at the Walnut decor through the door windows as she journeyed on.   The dark and solitude of these offices screamed for a breach.  She wanted to break into every one of them.  If only she could, just sneak in and grab a bit, perhaps after the job is finished.

"Ah, there it is!" Her journey came to an end at two thick glass doors that extended to the vaulted ceiling above it.  At the center of the doors bore a large metallic key hole with a digital combination box and another Security Pad for her trusty ID badge.  Anxiously she looked down the hallway and startled at another security camera she hadn’t noticed while staking out this location a week earlier.  Okay Jesus how did I miss that one?

Remaining cool and collected though a bit frustratedin her ineptness; she swiped the badge and slid the large silver key into the lock.  Pulling a small fob from her lap top case she waited until the code on the fob matched the digital combination on the lock. Once it did she turned the key - melting at the audible victory of the lock giving way and the thick glass doors sliding open.

 ...

“Good morning, did I wake you?” 

“Yeah... What time is it?”  Her head lifts to check the alarm clock.  Through bloodshot eyes she strained to believe the neon red digitalis glaring back at her through the dark bedroom “Christ Carlos you do realize that it’s one o’clock in the morning and I just finally got to sleep two hours ago… now is no time to be funny about shit.”

“No rest for the wicked beautiful.  You need to catch a flight in about 2 hours so I recommend you get up and get your ass to the airport.” 

“Catch a plane… pack…. now…flight in two hours…” she groaned “That must mean it’s time to pay dues.”

“Well, not exactly.  There’s a gentleman you’re going down there to meet…” The voice on the other end of the line gave pause “… a potential prospect.  You know, employment opportunities.”

She shoved her face into the soft down of the pillow “employment fucking opportunities at 1am in the fucking morning…Are you kidding?” 

“No, and we’re fairly confident that only you can pull this off or they wouldn't have had me book your flight.”

“Why is that exactly?  My great room presence?” 

“Something like that, we’ve approached him before but he’s never really been interested so I guess you’re the wearing the ruby slippers Dorothy.”

“Do I have to fuck him?” 

“You have to do whatever you have to do to do the job and that’s all we expect.”

She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes “Well shit.  I’ll have to shave my legs then I guess before I go… Okay, where the hell am I booked for.” 

“Dallas.”

“Oh, then maybe I won’t have to shave my legs…” 

“I hope you’re not thinking this is a joke.  Don’t make me send them over.” 

“No.  Fuck that.  Don’t send them over.  I’ll get my ass to the airport.”

“Good choice.  Your flight #472 leaves at 4:05am.  You’ll arrive in Dallas around 8:50, then you’ll take a cab to The Fairmont where you’ll unpack and call in.  Then you’ll head for lunch at Smith & Wollensky around 12:16 where he’ll meet you in the bar.”

“Meet me in the bar, swell.  And how will I know who he is?  Do I get a description or maybe a letter to shove in his face?”

“Still bitter about the approach huh M?” 

“Still bitter about the approach Carlos but I’m channeling my anger well in 151 ways… and I’ve graduated to almost a fifth a night.  Tell me Carlos, did you ever notice that in almost every movie the ‘hero’ was a slovenly drunk, loser, or drug addict before he or she got the ultimate job done?  Hell even James Bond had a martini between lays…”

“No you’re totally wrong. The movie Sneakers for example; Robert Redford was operating a security liaison company for banks and he was completely sober before he was recruited.” 

“Okay.  You just killed the justification for my guilt… and woke me up at One o’clock in the morning to tell me I get to play horny human resources girl for some shit-kicker… So far you’re batting a thousand and I feel all sorts of sunshine being blown up my ass.”

“You started with movies, I didn’t.” 

“Fine, Fine.  How will I know this mystery date when I see him?”

“Look in the corners; supposedly that’s how he operates.  We’ve been wa-” 

“I know I know… watching him… yes… you assholes do that.”  She retorted “Speaking of which, did you enjoy that gigolo I brought home on Friday?  I know you fuckers watched that… whatd’ya think Carlos… too young?  He was 24…  I did my best to get you a good cum shot to pause on….”

The phone disconnected abruptly.  She finished jotting down her flight notes and lurched from her warm bed.  Through the jet black darkness of her condo she crept; hitting the brew button on the coffee maker and making her way down the hall to the bathroom.  Flipping on the light of the vanity she cringed at her damage from the night before “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit” she muttered to herself, “And I have a really fucking foul mouth.”
 
...

Ten minutes… I have ten minutes to launch and disconnect… She sat crouched in the shadows of a grand office sourrounded by racks and racks of  blinking servers.  She thought it strange that the walnut furniture and plush carpet clashed so with the junky metal racks that held the CPU's. In her minds eye she could just see herself leaving a note for her victim to upgrade the racks to a cooled closet set-up, or something that accented the desk.  And maybe a fucking plant, jesus...

Her fingers sped furiously over the miniscule keys of the remote keyboard, giving as much emphasis on the enter in a pattern almost musical as she labored. Focused on the playlist streaming softly through her ears she did not stray from her position at the server interface; pusheing alpha numeric combinations of mind bending proportions at a speed uncharted.  Looking at the clock on the monitor she knew she only had about seven more minutes before that first dedicated employee would come through that door and catch her.

196 more strokes to go… Now all I need is Halle Berry giving me a head job and I’ll be in some bad rendition of Swordfish I swear to god… She laughed to herself between code strokes trying not to strain her eyes from the luminous blare in contrast to the dark office that surrounded her.  In her peripheral she could see the jump drive lights flashing which assured her it was communicating well.  Passing hacked codes through security firewalls and generating mirrored activity to keep the system completely distracted until she feverishly squeezed the very last of it in.

She began to roll up her keyboard and pack her items away into her case when she stopped and reconsidered... Perhaps even a little something into the exchange server for shits and giggles?  Four clicks of the mouse, a little special ghost folder… Two clicks and forty five seconds later she shut down the terminal and snatched her jump drive from the server.  She watched the server security lights re-enable and gave a sigh of relief just as the office lights came on unexpectedly. 

Shit!  She scurried quickly beneath the large walnut desk and retrieved a small packet of ziplock-type baggies from her jacket pocket.  Scanning around under the desk with her hands, gently, she panicked for her coffee cup, How the fuck?  Where is my coffee cup?  She sat still for the moment, trying to remember where she'd placed her belongings when she came in.

It's on the fucking desk isn't it?  You left it on the desk.  FUCK.  Twisting her hand up around the large leather chair and up to the surface of the table, she could feel a tear or perspiration forming on her forehead.  Pawing at the glossy desk top above her she continued to make mental note to herself about the snarky note she had wanted to leave about the office set-up  "Add a post script that air conditioning would be great for this room" she whispered.

The tips of her fingers connected with the rubber bottom of her cup, it would be a stretch away.  She leaned up, ripping her skirt a bit at the seam, but managing to grasp at it.  Trying to keep her forehead from touching the seat she was pushed against, she felt the cool of the leather on her chest and was thankful for it.  The bead of sweat continued to swell on her forehead and she found herself cursing at it  Don't drip, don't drip, don't drip...  Damnit please don't drip...

Sliding the cup to the edge of the desk and twisting her wrist to accomodate it's quiet, safe, and unnoticed place under the desk with her, she realized that it wasn't so bad that she was contorted under a large wooden desk, or that she'd just ripped her skirt to something that may be considered embarrassing.  She had her coffee cup now, and all would be right regardless of whether she left this building alive or dead.  

Placing the cup on the floor she retrieved the jump drive and placed it into one of the ziplock baggies; she could hear the foot steps of the receptionist just coming in and preparing the office for the day.  Patiently and a bit frantically she pawed for a lighter and timed the heels of the visitor until she snagged the pattern and clicked the lighter without notice.

Sealing the end of the baggie until the plastic melted to form a hard seam she grinned as she smelled around for any trace of plastic aroma.  Not even a hint of heat was present much less the noxious smell that burning plastic would leave.  Remind Carlos the baggies are dead on perfect....  She removed the lid of the coffee cup and dropped the baggie into it; watching it sink and disappear to the bottom of a caramel colored sea.  Screwing it's lid back on she relaxed a bit and tried to wipe the sweat away from her brow.

Hearing the first few people arrive for work just outside this office door, she mocked the way they greeted each other.  Perhaps Coffee was such a wonderful thing before she found adrenaline.  Now it seems the only drug she craves she can’t purchase every morning... In fact, she rarely drinks it anymore.  Something so important to her, a soul nectar every morning... Is now uncommon....  When did that change?

 ...

There really was no choice for her as the man had stated at the Diner that day.  In retrospect sure, she had her envelope...  But she still was unsure of whether knowing it's contents had been a good thing.  If anything it only began a miserable myriad of new questions and emotions.  Sleepness nights, stirring at the mayhem of that little gold locker key sitting on her nightstand since the day it was set there.  I should have spit in his face or for fucks sake put his cigarette out on his balls... Her legs heavy, she trudged and ached towards the lockers combing through the busy people until she found a seat on a nearby bench.

Before her a wall of boxes - little orange ones perfectly stacked atop one another and bearing each a gold number of it's own.  Rubbing her forehead she tried to justify the why’s and the how’s of what has happened to her life since that day in the Diner.  Her hand opened to relieve a damp palm and it's possession which begged to be used.  She wept a little and realized that now was the moment of truth.  The beginning of the game.  The very rest of her life and the death of it all in one little puzzle piece.

She had come to terms with the fact that she had nothing left to lose really... and they have everything to gain.  But there would never be comfort with it.  There would never be a happy ending.  "Never is a dream killer you know"  She muttered and flinched at the courage of the words as she pulled herself back to her feet and made her way to the bright orange lockers, skimming the numbers for a match.

E39… That’s the one.  For a moment she felt strange relief and then anger.  Pressing her forehead against the cool of the lockers, she thought back for a moment on everything she’d lose once she turns that key.  It would be like the equivallent of watching your life flash moments before your death…  Happy, Painful, Sad, Filling, Disappointing, and Empty....  But that locker before her could be the open window to her closed door. and  it was only one key turn away.

She slid the key into the lock hole and turned it.  The metal door popped open....

...

“Hey not in there!” A woman’s voice called from the reception area.  

“Sorry, sorry… I thought he was in this morning.” A man’s voice replied from the office door just outside and she could hear his hand begin to jostle the handle of the door.  She squeezed deeper into the underneath of the desk trying hard not to bump the large fluffy leather desk chair now pressed against her forehead, ailing the fever she experienced from the server farm fans.  “I thought I saw his bag in there.”

Oh my god, you didn't leave your bag out... Tell me you didn't leave your bag out......Her eyes darted to the side of the desk where her lap top case sat prominently displayed and quite visible through the glass panels of the door way.  FUCK you DID!

“Did you?” The woman’s voice disappeared down the hallway as she spoke “I’ll finish making the coffee then I’ll check, he’s always leaving his bag when he works late.”

"Alright, cool.  I guess I won't worry about it then." 

As the sounds of the two escaped her range of hearing she pried herself from the confinement of the large desk, steadying her coffee cup, and started for the door as quietly as she could - snatching her bag to her side.  I can't believe you left your bag out!  She ranted internally, thoroughly pissed at how sloppily she'd handled the most part of this job so far.   Once confident she was alone and the exit was clear, she hit a hard strut to the front doors just in time to also snag an empty corridor to steal away in pursuit of the elevators.

A few hallways east of her destination she passed an office doorway and just happened to look in.  Her eyes connected as she passed with a young man sitting at a desk placed perfectly in front of the open office door.  She stopped and backed up a few steps to look again.

The young man looked back at her "Hi."

"Well, hello."

"Aren't you going to ask me what we do here?"

"It says right above you, Internet Technologies... on that big sign above your head."

"Yes it does."

"Then, why would I ask?"

"Because everybody else does."

"I see.  Well okay then."  She began to leave but then hesitated and stepped back again. 

The young man looked at her again "Hi."

"Hello again.  Say, doesn't it bother you that you're right in front of the door like that?  I mean, how do people get around you?"

"There's a narrow entry way right here next to the desk.  It's not so bad."

"So you just watch people walk by all day and answer stupid questions."

"Pretty much."  The man tapped his pencil on his desk.

"I see.  Well, okay."  She started off again, thinking to herself how strange that whole interaction was with the guy at the desk and turned back around to the office door.

The young man looked up at her "Hi."

"Hello. What's your name?"

"Gabriel, Why?"

"Do you like coffee Gabriel?"