Rain never bothered him, really. He particularly liked it when it would rain, regardless of how light or hard it would go on. In fact, you could even say he loved it. It would remind him of the home he'd left many years ago where it would be rainy for long periods of time without rest. It was in the dry spells that sometimes gripped this new home that he would feel the most homesick, despite having lived here for quite some time now. He had never wanted to move in the beginning, though he really wasn't allowed much choice. Though it really was his choice, to turn down the offer (considering the company he was currently employed by) would be a high offence since someone had been demoted to room could be made for him and his very job would be put in jeopardy. As people moved up and sometimes moved on in the world, he only seemed to rise, shooting up the corporate ladder regardless of a sometimes rash and aggressive personality.
Then, against all odds, his temper worked in his favor. He seemed to channel that frustration into kicking his subordinates into gear quite well. Public secret was that his nickname amongst the others was 'The King' because out of all the others in or around his position he always had top notch and yet never flinched to take others down a few. He was getting a remarkably high pay, people were striving to steal his position which he held with the greatest of ease and the thought of people looking at him and envying him so much was very empowering…and yet also gave him this pit in his stomach. Was this what he wanted…? Did he truly want to be feared by everyone?
He's jolted back to reality by someone laying on their horn behind him. Startled, he jumps, looking up to see the light has already turned green and has been for god knows how long already. His foot presses the gas and he begins to move forward. His heart thuds in his chest and his hands grip the wheel in some sort of stiff emotional response. His surprise turns to anger and he grits his teeth, snarling to none but himself as the radio spouts politics and generic things about the poor economy. "Come on Arthur, pull it together…you know mistakes are not an option…" he hisses to himself, internally kicking himself. In the business he was in, he had to stay attentive and fully aware of his surroundings at all times. If he didn't he risked losing everything he'd fought, bitten and clawed for up unto this point.
He drives on, eyeing the street and the cars about him. They pass in silvers, blacks, and even the muted grey or blue. Some brand new and some rusted and disgusting looking. He grimaces at them, because their drives seem far too content with driving the heaps of metal better left in the scrap yard. If they just worked a little harder…a little faster…a little more like him. He shakes his head, unwilling to let himself slip into that way of thinking.
He eyes the road once more, feeling himself get distracted again. He wasn't going to let himself do that. Today was one of the biggest days of his career. He had an assessment today that would literally define the rest of his life and the remaining days of his career with this company. Without passing it with flying colors, he was doomed to the current position he was in. He could be the best there was in his department. If he was found worthy, which he prayed he would be…he would be named the manager of marketing. This meant he was right there at the top, calling shots and making huge choices for the company. Just thinking about it made him feel like the most powerful man on the plant.
He pulls into the covered parking spot he'd earned through his years of dedicated work and steps out. His shining black shoes hit the concrete with a satisfying click, his hand reaching up and adjusting his navy tie and the edge of his jet black suit coat. Reaching to his side as he stands, he grips the expensive handle to his suitcase, pulling it out with him and standing up. He turns to look over his sleek black Mercedes, the paint perfect without a single scratch. The feeling of overwhelming strength grows even more in his gut.
As the car door shuts with a thick clomping sound, he readjusts his cuffs and checks the silver cufflinks engraved with the light image of the British flag. He gives a little puff of a sigh and then heads into the huge building that belongs to his company. It's an enormous glass behemoth that towers over the landscape of other buildings that seem to be stretching in their own feeble attempts to reach the heights of this one. He eyes some of them, feeling that the building personified him and that he himself was much more a man than anyone in or representing those other companies.
Inside, the long stretches of marble and pillars and a huge statue in the center. It was of a man in Greek attire with huge wings, his muscled body twisted and turning as his outstretched arm reaches skyward and his eyes gaze into the sky (so to speak). It always struck him in the finest of ways, the meaning behind it quite obvious to him at least. It pushed him to fly higher and choose only the best. Unbeknownst to him, the path he walked was clear of people because everyone he passed recognized him. He was the Moses to this sea of people lesser then he.
He steps into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor and watching the doors before him. He had the elevator all to himself, successfully avoiding anyone pestering him for advice or for anything else they might need that he was unwilling to divulge. He looks at the ghostly shape of himself reflected in the glass looking out over the lobby as he rises. Higher and higher he climbs, watching the people below shrink to their size as felt by him. It was great to be the best in his job. He checks himself now. The suit was perfect, the tie straight, the cuffs perfect and even his near dirty blonde hair was well kept. He blinks his emerald eyes at his own reflection, regarding himself with the upmost courage and confidence. The elevator makes a light dinging noise and the doors slowly open.
He steps out into his element, the smells of the world he was born to be in filling his lungs. He felt like a powerful predator, entering its most sacred territory. He walks passed the receptionist and hears her pleasant and young voice say from afar "It's good to see you, ." Ah, to hear his name and to be known be someone he didn't know at all. In here, who didn't! He smiles in the most satisfied way he can and walks by, beelining for his office but in a slow way so as many people as possible can see he's arrived. Many do, and the others who don't know he's here. He reaches for the knob of his office door and opens it, stepping inside and closing it behind him with a heavy thud.
He walks into his huge office, the expansive room probably as big as a medium sized bedroom according to his standards. Behind his desk is a wall covered in shelves of books covering all topics from marketing to business laws and practices. He had so much information at his disposal so if there was something he didn't know off hand (which was highly unlikely) he could find it with the upmost of ease on his own.
To the right of his desk, going all the way down the length of his office's far wall was a glass window overlooking the cityscape. At night it was the most beautiful thing someone could ever ask for, seeing the buildings below lit up like it was Christmas every single day here except with less giving and more sleepless nights. There are two expensice chairs sitting before his enormous and heavy mahogany desk, which has a huge black rolling chair of its own. Then…he thinks he hears something. There's an odd background noise that strikes him as all too familiar…and yet completely foreign. Its light and somewhat calming, reaching into the depths of his mind and filling his heart with a warmth that can only be described as…nostalgia. Then it hits him. Its rain…!
Reaching out a shaky hand he presses a button to ring for his secretary sitting outside at the receptionist's desk. "Yes sir?" she asks eagerly. He hesitates. He hates it when he hesitates. "How long has it been raining?" he asks, the question coming out as odd but containing his usual sharpness. "S-since quite early today, sir; i-it was raining even before I got here." she replies, startled at tone in his voice. He's quiet…then says into the com "That's all I needed…" before slumping down in his chair. He turns his chair to look out the glass window, its huge panes speckled with droplets. The rain never bothered him, really. In fact, you could even say he loved it. But nowadays, the rain was just not good enough for him and both he and the rain knew it.