Reese zipped up the cello case and buckled it down around the form, making sure it was grounded in its wood-framed leather case and setting it up. The concert hall had been loud enough to hear from two floors below the hall itself, but then, he always enjoyed a bit of classical music when he was around. Opera, though not his favored listening tools, didn't get performed much here. He stood and slid the case onto his shoulder, rearranging his jacket after it crumpled under the strap. He left the small back room, a poor excuse for a personal office, but considering his cover and their location, he couldn't afford to be picky with his layout. It had a door that separated him from others, and that was really all he wanted in the end. After he locked up his office, Reese was intercepted in the hallway by his boss, a very imposing man in an extremely well-fitted suit and low-riding hat that shadowed his eyes dramatically. "Simpson." He gruffed. "Leaving early?"

"As early as I dare. My double's off the stage so far as I've been told, why not take an early leave?" From the hook by the door he'd just locked, Reese grabbed his hat, which resembled that of a messenger boy but worked with his cream-and-brown getup. "I don't see why I'm here since I'm off the field. Unless...?"

"No, nothin' else for the day." His boss stretched and something in his hand came down in front of Reese. "'Cept this."

"What's 'this'?" Reese took the rolled-and-bound papers and started to pick them apart, but was stopped.

"New plans for our new southeast base. We're expanding into a warehouse used for shipping meat to butchers in the city."

"Well, look who has big plans." Reese grinned, taking his cello case off and sliding the rolled papers inside. He nudged the man on his way down the hall, to the lift nearby, and slid the grate out of the way. Pulling a key from around his neck, Reese inserted it and twisted, then poked the button labeled "G". The lift shuddered and started up, pulling away from the darkly lit hallway and into a darkly lit alcove. The key allowed the holders to go down to the lower floors, which most didn't even know existed. That was the whole point, of course. He passed his double in the short hallway, who was slipping off his wig to reveal light blonde hair, and returned the nod he was given. The double played a cello and violin both, so as Reese left, he was greeted with enthusiasm from viewers of the latest piece that had been played.

Outside he looked around carefully, pulling down his hat and jumping the tram when it stopped. Hanging onto the pole nearest the doors, Reese watched the gray sky try to find some blue, and a few cracks of cobalt managed to shimmer through, accompanied by a shaft of light from the sun that nearly blinded him when he looked up for it.

He got off a couple streets over from the residential area he lived in. A common-looking, nondescript series of three-level brownstones with small grassy areas outside their sturdy fences and cobblestone pathways, his windows were dark and silent, and when he stepped in, Reese breathed in a deep smell of honey and cinnamon, two calming smells he preferred to have permeate through his home. In the living room, full of soft, comfortable seating arrangements and dark wood furniture, Reese unbuckled his cello case and took out the heavy sniper rifle, setting it above the fireplace and pulling the wrapped documents out. He set the case beside the fireplace and went upstairs, to his second floor office and knelt in front of the heavy-duty safe, disguised as a table that wasn't extremely convincing. Reese paused, typing in a ten-digit security code, then licking his index finger and pressing it to the glassy surface that slid into view. It popped open, the door sliding on silent hinges, and Reese set the rolled documents on top of the rest. He would have to read them eventually, or he'd get lost in the new location.