Machiavelli hung up the phone, a stricken look on his face. "He's…he slumped in the chair, couldn't even finish the sentence, he couldn't believe it. "What is it?" Dee asked uninterested. "It's Flamel he's… he was still unable to say it. "Well, spit it out man." Dee snapped. "Flamel is d…dead." Machiavelli not able to keep the shock out of his voice and face. "About time." Dee said coldly. Machiavelli hadn't heard him, he had fazed out completely. "Dead?" he thought. "No, I can't believe this, he's really dead?" Niccolo pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought and memory.
" Niccolo Machiavelli nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you." The man with black closely cropped hair and pale eyes said warmly. "Thank-you Mr. Flamel, I have too heard much about you and your infamous wife." "I may consider that a bad thing sir." Nicholas laughed. Machiavelli just smiled in return. "And you madam Flamel, how may I ask have you been?" "Fine thank-you, running around does a person some good now and then." She smiled. Nicholas still smiling put his hand on Machiavelli's shoulder and began walk away with him. "Come on, we have much to talk about, much to tell as well."
Niccolo unknowingly let a small tear cascade down his cheek, he never really hated them, come to think of it, he was fond of them, fearful but fond. "Damn"… he let the word slip as another tear slipped out as well.