Raoul was incessantly rubbing his fingers over the grooved wooden knob that capped the arm of his chair. It was an exceedingly expensive chair, constructed of the highest quality mahogany and the most buttery of all leathers. Yet still he twitched and squirmed in the seat. Others probably did as well.

He wondered if Philippe had chosen it for that purpose.

It was now twenty minutes since the time of his supposed "meeting" with his older brother. The elder Chagny was one of the giants of the secret service, a man whose shoes were licked clean by some of the wealthiest, most elite politicians the world over.

He scared Raoul to death.

The doorknob turned, and Raoul bolted upright, his papers crackling in his hand.

Philippe was not impressive to look at. Underneath his rigid posture, he was relatively short at 5'5." His crisply tailored suits did a stunning job of skimming over his soft belly, but it was not quite enough. His tight jaw did not seem to match his slightly round cheeks.

Yet none of that mattered when he pinned you down with his hard, black eyes.

"Ah," Raoul spoke, "Philippe! How...how are you doing this morn-"

Philippe silenced him with a glance.

Raoul swallowed hard and tried again.

"I, er, I received your email. That's...that's why I'm here. Obviously." He smiled a goofy grin. It was not returned.

Philippe sunk into the cushioned leather chair behind his desk. He stroked his chin, teeth chewing hard on his thin red lips.

"I'm, I'm sorry that I disappointed you, Philippe. I know it was quite a high profile assignment, and I know that you were responsible for me getting the chance for it. Everything just...I don't know! It just fell apart..."

Philippe slammed his hand on the desk, and Raoul flinched.

"What," Philippe breathed, "happened?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Raoul squealed. "I got sick! I had to go to the emergency room-"

Philippe growled.

Raoul put on his bravest face. "I'm...I'm sorry you don't like it, Philippe, but...but I can't change the truth! It's out of my hands now - Mr. Kahn has already approved a personnel change - and, and...I'm not sure what else you want me to say!"

Philippe held his head in his hands, his fingers intertwined through the watery blond strands of his hair.

Raoul swallowed hard, and spoke in a wary whisper.

"Philippe," he said, "Philippe...I know you're...upset. I fumbled a wonderful chance that you handed to me on a platter. But...but I went to the emergency room, Philippe...it was an unheard of drop in blood sugar. I might have died if it was any lower. I thought...I thought that at least you might, well...might have come to see me..."

Philippe stared, irony pouring from his gaze.

"Philippe," Raoul tried, "Philippe! I'm your brother...just...just speak to me!"

That did it. Philippe snapped, shooting out of his chair and slamming his desk with his fist. His face was a deadly shade of maroon, a hideous blue vein throbbing near his forehead.

"GET...OUT!" He roared. "GET THE F-F-FUCKCK OUT OF HHERE, YOU GOD-D-DAMN P-P-POOF!"

Raoul grabbed his papers and bolted.

...

Raoul was slumped in the shade of a green canopy, bemoaning his fate, his brother, and life in general.

"Hey, bro, you okay?"

He smiled. Good old Gerard. Him and Emmy, his twin sister, were the best friends he had ever had, or at least since prep school. They were both slim and slick, blessed with impossibly thick black hair, and graced with just the right amount of tan.

"Raoul, sweetie, you look like someone just ran over your cat...what happened?" Emmy squeaked.

He sighed and sat upright. "Just another meeting with Philippe. He doesn't much like the way I'm handling myself on the job."

Gerard snorted. "Old Philippe the infallible, eh? God, I hate the way he just digs into everyone's busi-"

"Shut up, Gerard," piped Emmy. "You're just making things worse." Emmy held Raoul's hand. "I'm sorry, Raoul. I know he can be a hard ass. Want to go to the theatre with us later? We're going to see Hairspray..."

Raoul laughed. "Thanks, Emmy...but probably not. I'm going to take it easy today. This is nothing that a massage and a steam bath won't cure. Anyway, we were meeting here for coffee, remember? Let's go inside before they run out."

Emmy giggled as Raoul gave her a deep, old-fashioned bow. She clip-clopped in front of him as they walked inside, perched on those insane stiletto heels that always reminded Raoul of horse hooves. She gave Gerard a playful punch on his well toned shoulder.

Raoul grinned. These two could always make him happy. Maybe he should go to the theatre with them...either way, they would always be his friends.

"Ooooh, look guys!" Emmy chirped. "Pumpkin lattes!"