The restoration department conference room smelled faintly of coffee, paper, and old varnish.
Morning sunlight filtered through the glass walls overlooking the open office floor. A projector cast restoration schedules across a large screen while laptops, restoration reports, and half-finished drinks occupied most of the conference table. Around it sat the members of Artemis Restoration, some taking notes, others pretending to.
Galathea Brooks stood at the front of the room.
"The current restoration queue increased by eighteen percent compared to last quarter."
She tapped her presentation remote.
A new slide appeared.
Rows of pending projects filled the screen.
"Three large-scale restoration requests arrived this month alone. Unless damaged paintings suddenly decide to repair themselves, we'll need additional staffing."
Pens moved.
Notes were taken.
Nobody laughed.
Galathea wasn't trying to be funny.
Most of her department knew that by now.
