<suddenly, in the shadows of the trees outside of the Office of Security, Exnihil winks in
from the future . He looks around to get his bearings and sights his past self uneasily swaying toward toward the front doors. The past Ex looks rather the worse for wear: his shirt-tails untucked, an unseemly stain down the front, a four-day facial hair growth, cowlick askew in a disheveled fashion. Future Ex grows pensive as he watches his past self>
Oh my god, I know this day! This is the day just prior to the one I just left... this is where I tried to confess to the Cobie assassination. I think I'm beginning to sense a pattern.
<suddenly he gets an idea. Franticly he reaches inside his jacket and takes out a pen and paper. He scrawls something hastily down, looks again at past Ex, and makes up his mind>
It's now or never... HEY... EXNIHIL!!!
<past Ex looks over to the shadows and squints. He's not quite certain of what's going on but, in his drunken state, wanders over anyway>
Who're you? <he slurls> Whaddya want?
<future Ex, making sure to stay obscured by the shadows, holds out the paper>
Listen, Ex, I need you to do me a favor. Take this... no I don't have time to explain... listen, I know you've got business of your own, but it's
very important that you give this to the Office of Security.
<uneasily, past Ex takes the paper. He drunkenly sways, confused, but beyond the point of caring>
What? No... you know what... fine... I don't even care... whatever, buddy.
<Past Ex stumbles off again toward the Security Office, as future Ex watches sadly. He whispers to himself>
I pray this works
<He bends down and digs about a foot into the ground. Again he pulls out an aged pocketwatch, winds it, and reburies it in the ground>
Six o'clock, Phineas.
<Future Ex
disappears >
*****************************************************************
<The double doors to the lobby of the Office of Security swing open. Past Ex stumbles uneasily to the front desk where the on-duty clerk is busy with paperwork>
Ahem.
A...HEM!
Hello. I... uh... I'd like to turn myself in.
I... uh... have certain... information... regarding a
campaign -related
assassination attempt on one "Cobalt Kid".
Oh... and some guy wanted you to have this...
<he hands the paper to the desk clerk... takes an uneasy step backward... and promptly passes out>
<the desk clerk looks down at the crumpled form on the floor before him, shakes his head, places the paper into a huge pile in his in-bin... then goes back to his paperwork>