Say perchance that:
The moon was in SCORPIO; from his desk inside SD-6, Arvin could see all of his minions, diligent and productive.
you're callous. heartless. unremorseful. those who work for you are blinded in believing that you uphold truth and honor. respectful drones. expendability. you're jealous of their selfless dedication. enviable. a man with your knowledge conceals his emotions with the utmost control. think back on the selective times that you've cried; those memories seem washed away with the tears.
your love for the few that you hold close has shrouded the superficial skin that you've made so thick, tough. impenetrable. you notice how different things are outside your window when Sydney isn't around. the bustle seems slower, the talking, less. the files next to your computer have been finished for an hour now. clean the finger-print-pad, wipe down the phone, blow the dust from your computer screen. organizational. your resourcefulness causes you to open up the top file again. your notes seems messy. decide to do the whole thing again, from the beginning. your mind wanders to those days back in Brooklyn. when people knew you as strictly "Arvin", although you preferred "Sloane"; there was a time when you used to pace that street over and over, sometimes until nightfall. memorable.
finishing for the second time, you get up from you desk, walk through the glass door, down the steps, pass Dixon, persistently working on the Pieshoni computer program. you enter Marshall's office. unfathomable. you fight back a sour face as you notice the candy wrappers, empty Tab cans, the odor. you decide to make this quick. he looks up from the floor with an innocent smile. "Things have changed." uncomfortable. "I need you to go back to the original one." the file flies from you hands onto the stack of others, you turn, leave, close the door behind you. sigh.
you start back towards your office. 11:59 am. back inside, you assume your position on your back leather throne. you bring up your elbows, place them on your desk, cross your fingers, glare back out. credible. satisfied with yourself, you close you eyes, returning to thoughts of Sydney's absence.