Weiler made another aborted sound of laughter into his hand, though his effort to hide it was minimal at best. The tremor in his frame was most likely obvious against Locke's inner arm, which he had leaned back against without hesitation to continue the charade. It didn't take the General's own commentary to confirm the man's rigidness, though. Locke clearly took everything too seriously, which was why it was just that much easier for Weiler to dig out his pack of cigarettes and hold it out in offer while he fished for the expensive silver lighter he carried around as well.

"But let's get down to business, as I'm sure you have other pressing matters to attend to, Senator," continued the General, the muffled sound of sure footsteps punctuating her words. She was slowly pacing around the carpeted interior of the room from the sound of it, drawing nearer to the desk and therefore to the planted bug. When she next spoke, her voice was louder. "No thank you, sir."

A clink of ice in glass and the 'thump' of a cork stopper being put back in place - the Senator paused and took a sip of his own expensive brandy before answering. "Very well, then. Regarding the terms of representation..."

A hand fell on Locke's knee and crept up to a few inches from the junction of leg to hip - just in time for the door leading to the outside hall to open a crack after a curt two-beat knock. The woman who had led the Gladsheim personnel in half-stepped into the room, not even batting an eye at the two occupants' position. "Will the guests be requiring some refreshments, Milo?"