Leap of Faith

Chapter 2

Whether the man had ever been told the utmost truth before, in his life, it did not matter.

But, Angelo did not feel compelled to reveal to Jordan that he had, without a doubt, the absolutely most horrid breath of any man to ever cross the earth. 

If Jordan was not so physically well endowed, the words of wisdom may have, very well, passed his spit slicked lips. However, it was an enormous level of willpower that allowed Angelo to even hold himself back from bolting as the man stepped up to press his face so near Angelo's, that he was pushed into a hot oven, him and an open packet of rotten sardines. 

"uhm, sir..."

"You do know why you were called into my office today?"

Eagle eyes followed Angelo's own as he fought with his will.

"I assume that this is to discuss the recent allegations...," Angelo paused, allowing a quick dart of his tongue to wet his quickly drying lips. The man hummed in affirmation, go on, he seemed to say, his lips pursed, "...uhm yes. The recent allegations against, er, about my apparent dwelling in the, quote unquote, 'underground politics," he grimaced.

"Mhm...," Jordan crossed his arms, leaning back as he assessed the man before him. 

"What would you like to say to that, as, if you are aware, we do not allow dwellings in 'underground politics' in this establishment..." The man spoke with deep sarcasm.

"As you know," he continued, his eyes locking with Angelo's, "we do not commonly refer to these, as you so lightly called, 'underground politics,' as anything less than treason. Treason, which, apparent enough, can be punished with up to 15 years in prison."

The ticking of the clock was like a mantra in Angelo's head as he stared into the man's eyes, pushing images of death and stoicism so... stoic that he would expect no less from them than to condemn him suddenly with 50 push-ups into the filters of his mind. As long as they would reveal nothing of what was hidden beneath.

"Sir," he allowed a smile to ghost over his lips, "do you seriously think I would be working at the most anti-treason newspaper company, or shall I say, establishment, in the world if it were not for my own anti-treason ways?" 

Jordan finally stepped away, turning his back and plunging Angelo into a vat of air so crisp that he felt as if he had been drowning.

"Right, you should be aware of the fact that you are no longer working at this establishment now, then. If you are to start thinking of your future. I would suggest choosing a job more lenient. Pressure is not good on the face, as you can tell." The man finally turned back around, but the look on his face was curious, as opposed to that of the bitterness in his words. He seemed to be putting a lot of thought into his next words.

Thank God, Angelo could not handle anymore brash words, no matter how simple, at the moment. His brain reeling.

He had been fired.

In this economy? Impossible.

Jordan opened his moment, then, and to Angelo's complete and utter surprise, the man did not seem to know what to say. 

"Angelo." And he spoke so seriously that the lights in the room seemed to dim. Then, as if absolutely nothing had happened, he waved a careless hand and turned away, "dismissed."