Roy sat absent mindedly in his car for quite some time.

July 14th.

He swallowed heavily. He wasn't really sure what to do next. Of course he could say to himself this was the beginning of a type of closure, perhaps, but regardless Roy drove over to the movie studio with nothing in mind.

Nothing.

Nothing?

He hadn't talked to anyone involved from the company since, and Sinclair didn't count. Mostly Roy decided he could find another piece of closure this way, if it would help at all, or maybe it was a fuck you to the production company, and he damn knew they'd remember him, or at least a part of him hoped.

No one was outside, save several cars, one Roy recognized being the director who put him on top of that bridge, and Roy smirked to himself as he pulled in next to it.

Roy took a deep breath. His anxiety levels were rising a bit and he felt foolish for it. What was he so anxious about, being judged? For what, the whole wheelchair thing?

Why am I doing this...

He was relieved one of the front doors was propped open; he didn't feel like looking like an idiot trying to open it. There was a certain technique he used for door opening, opening the door ajar enough to wheel halfway in and then pushing the door all the way. It worked, but Roy couldn't help but feel like people were watching, and he still felt like an idiot.

Immediately Roy felt eyes on him. It was a shoddy put together studio, and the first thing you came into was a conference room adjacent to the warehouse itself where most of the filming was done when it wasn't on location.

And he was right. Most of the production crew remembered him; looking confused at first, putting two and two together, and quickly looking away to whatever they were doing.

A young woman with horn rimmed glasses quickly tapped Roy on the shoulder. She looked like an intern, and she looked irked that someone who she didn't know happened to be in the building. Roy wheeled into the studio and she put her hands on the back of his wheelchair to stop him. That was one of the things he loathed and he tensed up, biting his tongue.

"Excuse me sir, but are you scheduled to meet with someone today?"

"No, I'm uh-"

She eyeballed him furiously.

"How'd you get in here?"

"Door was open. I used to work here actually, I uh-"

She moved her tongue around in her mouth. "You're..." she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Roy Walker? I, um..."

Ok, so she did know. And she left without saying anything, presumably in embarrassment, if Roy Walker was a household name at this place now.

Roy sat and observed. The lights were dim where the cameras were not, a lighting around a scene setup to look like a courtroom. Roy figured they were in between takes, considering most of the production crew was in the other room, and he didn't recognize any of the actors.

And even though it seemed to only happen when Roy was in large crowds, and individual happened to bump into him without notice and continued on their way until Roy said softly: "Not filming on vacation today?"

Upton, the uptight director, suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned around quickly at the sound of Roy's voice, nearly dropping his stack of papers when he realized who it was.

"Oh. Roy. I haven't seen you in almost a year..." He was obviously uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact. He shuffled the papers, not sure whether to continue talking or to book it.

Roy couldn't believe he used to worship this man, would do anything to get a chance to be in his directed flickers. It seemed petty and stupid to him now. And the look on Upton's face was pretty clear; there was a twinge of guilt, maybe even regret.

"Not filming on location today?" Roy repeated. His voice quivered involuntarily and he wanted to smack himself for it.

"What are you doing here?"

Don't have the balls to answer my question, you pompous creep?

"Just stoppin by," Roy smiled.

"You, uh, you've been around here much?"

"I've been around," Roy responded. "Actually, I wanted to personally thank you for the cheque."

"Pleasure," Upton cleared his throat.

"I know I was pretty late with accepting it but...there's someone in my life now."

Upton seemed surprised at Roy's answer. "Every bit counts, huh?"

"Of course."

Upton offered a handshake, fidgeted awkwardly, not sure whether to stay or to go.

"I'll stay out of the way. You go get back to work..." Roy nodded.

As Roy turned to leave, Upton quietly mentioned, "y'know, Roy, if you ever need a job, we need a receptionist."

"I'll be wishing you well, Upton."