Rothfuss slowly walked through the door into the apartment. Ambercrombie was there, sitting on the cross legged couch. The blinds were all shut, giving slanted light beams to the musty room. Rothfuss sat on the love seat across from Ambercrombie, the round wooden table between them. Patrick and Joeseph. The chasms of silence from the room were shattered with a ring from the postman. Ambercrombie slunk to the door, opening it with a blatant hopefullness. The magazine was in his hands. At a look from Rothfuss he ran to the table. Results were in. Hopes shattered. Neither were number one.