Hashem’s eyes darted back and forth like a tired butterfly, scanning the halls carefully. The walls were a milky cream color, evenly coated and obviously professionally painted. A few small oak tables lined the walls, polished and shining with an abundance of antique vases and beautiful flowers. Whoever had built the place obviously had put a lot of work into it, but that wasn’t exactly what Hashem was paying attention to. What he needed was to find a sufficient place to hide in the embassy until the night, when he would commit the deadly crime. A very deadly crime. Goosebumps climbed up his skin at the though, but Hashem just shook it off. That was the kind of stuff he did not need to be thinking. It could ruin his whole plan.

Now, to find the office and a place to hide. He racked his brain for a way to go unnoticed through the halls, when he remembered something one of his colleagues had told him many years ago:

“You ever want to go unnoticed, then act like a cripple. People never notice cripples. Uphold a dull look in your eyes, bend your leg, and limp like crazy. And if you are noticed, people will feel so sorry for you that a, they’ll help you to wherever you want to go, or b, they’ll leave you alone. Completely.”

Hashem grinned, with a smug look plastered on his face, and bent his leg. He hobbled along through the halls, glancing at the doors and reading the names. Most of them seemed to be in the language of the embassy, and was slightly hard to pronounce. All he was looking for were the words that read ‘Scipio Ciatore’, and not coming across them was beginning to irritate him.

“..Excuse me, sir, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here.”

Hashem was on the verge of jumping in surprise, but he suppressed the urge and let his eyes sag. He bent his leg a little more, and turned to face the speaker.

“I’m sorry. I’m just looking for Scipio Ciatore’s office.”

The person who had startled him was a dark haired woman, fair skinned, and important looking. Her face was quite stern until her eye’s lay upon Hashem’s leg, when her expression immediately switched to sympathetic.

“Oh, of course.” She nodded and smiled largely, pointing down the hall opposite the way he had come. “Follow it until the straightaway ends and take your left. Just look at the doors, and the most elegant looking one should be his. It also has his name on the nameplate, so it shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”

Hashem nodded, and hobbled merrily off, if you could call it that.

__________________
[These Guys Will Show You Inescapable Doom]

"Maybe it's the sum of a million coincidences we don't quite control that brings us to a particular place
at a particular time, or maybe it's the choices we make, the actions we take. If there's one thing I've learned in 85 years, it's
that what we want doesn't always matter. But then again, sometimes it's all that does." - Mick St. John