They're held back by a line of security, phones and microphones shoved through the gaps like they're starving for a piece of you.

The tower doors loom ahead. Glass and steel. Your father's name in silver block letters above the entrance. Home.

A hand lands on your shoulder. Firm. Familiar.

Happy jerks his head toward the entrance, bulk shielding you from the worst of the crowd. The cameras keep flashing. The questions keep coming.