"So you're the famous Victor Fries?" Grant pumped Victor's hand rapidly.

"I wouldn't say famous," Victor glanced at the full drink in his left hand to make sure none of the contents had spilled with the vigorous hand shake.

"Oh, don't be so modest. I've seen a lot of your work. You're a genius! I'm so glad to have you as the lead designer on my latest project," Grant beamed.

"Now, now, we're at a party. Let's not discuss business," Ferris butted in, giving Victor's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he stepped forward to join the conversation. "Victor lives and breathes work. Let's give him a break, shall we?" He smiled pleasantly to Victor, who starred blankly at him, clueless to the job Grant referenced.

"Oh yes, after a long and hard twenty hour work week, we wouldn't want to add any overtime." Grant let out a booming laugh. "My bad, that's Gregory, isn't it?" Ferris chuckled.

"This is our workaholic," Ferris bragged.

"We'll you ought to make him head of your cryogenics department, Ferris," Grant encouraged. As he was turning to talk another guest that had captured his attention, he made a quick request of Victor.

"You hit me up later, and I'll get you set up with a weekend getaway on my yacht. You look like you need a vacation," Grant ran a finger under his eye in large circles, pointing out the obvious sign that Victor had been sleeping rather poorly. He headed off to mingle with the high ranking guests of Ferris' party. Ferris let out a sigh of relief before putting on his business smile.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?" Ferris was guiding him in the direction of one of the buffet tables.

"No," Victor admitted, distastefully looking over the glass of Dom Perignon Ferris had thrust in his hand the moment he caught sight of him.

"You're not on a special diet or anything are you? It looks like you've lost a lot of weight the last few months." Victor shrugged, having no response.

"Well help yourself to whatever you like. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Victor murmured towards the floor. Ferris touched his shoulder again before he went to meet up with another group demanding his attention. Victor resigned himself to the far end of the table where fewer people had congregated. He had glanced over the hors o'dourves, but nothing seemed appetizing enough for him to put on a plate.

"This party's a real drag, isn't it?" a woman's voice came from behind him. He turned when he realized she was addressing him. She stood before him, dressed in a navy blue evening gown, the color perfectly matching GothCorp's color.

"Oh . . . no, it's pleasant."

"But you're not enjoying yourself," she insisted, selecting a plump cheese cube and popping it in her mouth.

"I'm not much of a party person."

"I could tell," she extended a hand in greeting. "I haven't seen you at the GothCorp dinner before. You must be Dr. Victor Fries."

"Uh, yes. I, um, didn't catch your name," he mumbled, feeling himself blush.

"You can call me Sarah." She smiled broadly, and he mustered up a shy one in return. He said nothing else, awkwardly waiting for her to move onto a more significant person. Instead, she attempted to envelope him in conversation.

"Grant Walker tells me you're going to be the next head of the Cryogenics department."

"Oh no, it was just . . . I couldn't possibly."

"And why not? You're dedicated, efficient, and smart. You're probably the smartest in the whole department, if not that wing of the building." He wanted to tell her that he was not good enough, that he had failed the only person in his life that had made him happy. How could he ever manage a whole department?

Her sincere smile and genuine interest talking with him made him think twice. Instead he simply stated, "Gregory is doing an excellent job of supervising cryogenics. He's a great manager."

"Gregory Belson? I'll take your word for it. I've only seen him after he gets a few drinks in him. He has quite a taste for fine liquor. I think it was a few years ago we had to keep him overnight." Victor studied her for another moment before realization clicked in.

"Mrs. Sara Boyle?"

"Oh no, did I give myself away?" she feigned exasperation. "Don't worry, I wasn't spying on you. I thought if I told you I was the hostess, you would get down on your knees and tell me this was the best party you had ever been to."

"It is nice." When she rolled her eyes, he added, "I've been to worse."

"So Victor Fries is a party animal?" she teased, a twinkle in her eye showing that she was just having fun, but not at his expense.

"Well the last party I went to, I ended up with a broken nose and a black eye. This one is at least a hundred times better."

"What happened?" she had nearly dropped her empty wine glass.

"He was just angry and my face was the closet to his fist," Victor began to recount the tale. He stopped almost immediately, unsure if she was actually interested in his life stories.

"What happened to him? I hope he got his just desserts."

"I feel bad for him, but he did end up leaving with a fractured arm. Compliments of my . . . wife . . ." He turned away as he felt tears sting his eyes. He took off his glasses and pretended to clean them as he dabbed his eyes with his sleeve.

"Well, I think she had every right. She's lucky to have you as a husband."

"I guess," he felt his stomach twist into knots and bile rise in his throat.

"Are you alright? You look pale." He tried to wave off the sudden wave of nausea.

"No, I'm fine."

"If you're looking for a quiet place, I recommend the back porch. Now if you'll excuse me," she glanced over her shoulder at a group that was waving her over, "I have to go pretend to be interested in the slight decline of stock prices." He took her advice, and, after he handed off his untouched drink to Gregory, he made his way to the back porch, slipping out unnoticed.

Ferris came out to find him towards the end of the party. Many of the guests had left, and he had not seen Victor around for the last two hours. After one of his butlers reported Victor's car was still parked outside, he found out from Sarah where Victor had disappeared to.

"I thought you had left," Ferris greeted as he closed the door behind him. Victor had leaned against the railing and jumped back the moment he heard the door open. There was little light that escaped from the interior of the house, so they were both cast in shadow.

"I just stepped outside for a minute," Victor wrung his hands, fingers fidgeting over his left hand.

"It's been more like two hours," Ferris teased, but took a more serious tone when he heard the tremble in Victor's voice.

"You've been crying," he stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Victor's shoulder. Victor could not deny that most of his time alone had been spent mourning, but he let Ferris comfort him for the time being.

"Why don't you go home? I was going to talk to you, but it can wait until Monday. Come and talk to me in the morning. Don't come up before nine. I know you're there early, but I am not as much of an early bird as you." He laughed, hoping Victor would appreciate a little of the humor. Victor made no sound, as he let Ferris pull him back inside, declining to take any food or drinks home with him. He bid a small farewell to Sarah on his way out, keeping his red and swollen eyes diverted towards the ground.