Ivan enters the presidential office and finds Josias at his desk, leaning back in the regal upholstered chair, with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a confident smile. Nothing can shake our hero.

The sergeant studies the Italian-cut suit of Lagoon City's most successful businessman and is envious of the patterned T-shirt and faded, frayed jeans he is wearing.

Josias leans forward and places the glass on the mahogany desk, “Mr. Moraes, it's a pleasure to see you again. The concierge said you really wanted to see me.”

“The concierge wouldn’t let me in, I had to make a fuss!” Ivan barks.

“But why did you come to see me with such emphasis?” Josias asks as if he doesn't know the answer.

“I came here,” He approaches with slow steps, “to hear your confession and have peace of mind.”

“Who would have that peace, me?” Josias chuckles, “Wouldn’t that be you?”

“Perhaps peace will come to both of us.” Ivan smiles awkwardly.

Josias shakes his head, “Moraes, I'm tired of all this. You're trying to