It had been half an hour since a man in black had arrived on his doorstep to tell Hank that he was dead. It was six in the morning, and he was groggy from being woken up. Now, in an ever growing silence, the Man in Black sat on the sofa while Hank sat across from him in an armchair. The Man in Black ate the mints out of the bowl Hank kept on his coffee table. Hank stared at the cross on his wall for the longest time until he spoke up.