They entered through the gate... The lobby was quiet in the late afternoon.
Stan walked in, and Camilla followed half a step behind him.
She was, once again, very quiet. Her red eyes moved across the lobby with the small unhurried cataloguing attention she had brought to every new interior since Inksea International, the recessed lighting, the soft ambient music laid so low it barely registered as sound, the arrangement of low couches around a slim brass sculpture that served no obvious function beyond looking expensive. She did not comment.
She did, however, tilt her head very slightly at the sculpture.
Stan almost smiled.
The elevator was at the far end of the lobby. Stan tapped his phone against the reader. The doors slid open onto a mirrored interior. He stepped in. Camilla followed.
The doors closed.
