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The Waiting Room
Being led to the waiting room was more akin to being brought on a full-scale tour of the floor than any beeline route. The layout of the Senator's office was linear in nature, with one winding passage through the space that passed by nearly every single room in succession, designed probably with the mindset that a person could follow only one path and turn off into their desired destination sooner or later. It was aesthetically and theoretically sound, but architecturally and practically wasteful, making it perfect for a politician.
At the very end, two large polished doors, painted to look like archaic mahogany (if that species still existed in this day and age). They glistened with the evidence of a very good cleaning crew and swung inwards to reveal a square, stately room, lit in the center by a low-hanging crystal chandelier. An ornamental rug lay on the ground, covering most of the floor space, and upon it rested two plush couches and a low coffee table, adorned with a contemporary vase of some sort. The couches, made of black leather, shone dully in the warm light, and atop one of them was the Senator's secretary, sitting cross-legged with a cigarette hanging from two of his fingers.
Weiler looked up as the doors opened, raising a brow minutely when he saw who entered. He then put out his light on the nearby ashtray and swept himself to his feet in one fluid motion. "General," he greeted, voice smooth despite the vice. When addressing military personnel, it was best to be militant - being to-the-point would suffice. "The Senator is waiting for you in his personal office space. He assured me that you would appreciate the privacy."
At the very end, two large polished doors, painted to look like archaic mahogany (if that species still existed in this day and age). They glistened with the evidence of a very good cleaning crew and swung inwards to reveal a square, stately room, lit in the center by a low-hanging crystal chandelier. An ornamental rug lay on the ground, covering most of the floor space, and upon it rested two plush couches and a low coffee table, adorned with a contemporary vase of some sort. The couches, made of black leather, shone dully in the warm light, and atop one of them was the Senator's secretary, sitting cross-legged with a cigarette hanging from two of his fingers.
Weiler looked up as the doors opened, raising a brow minutely when he saw who entered. He then put out his light on the nearby ashtray and swept himself to his feet in one fluid motion. "General," he greeted, voice smooth despite the vice. When addressing military personnel, it was best to be militant - being to-the-point would suffice. "The Senator is waiting for you in his personal office space. He assured me that you would appreciate the privacy."
AND A MISSING PERIOD THERE
"Oh, no, I think you've just about covered it. I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to arrange transportation for me to retire to my accommodations again?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet. After standing, he brushed himself off as if the impeccable leather seat had left something unsavory on his overly-expensive suit.
"You must be tired, Senator. I'm sure something can be arranged," Weiler echoed, glancing at Locke. "Why don't you rest a little in the canteen while I see about arranging vehicle service? Nick, would you mind showing me where I could do that?"
LOL i never notice these things until you point 'em out
"The canteen is straight ahead, senator. And take this," Locke said, handing the senator a different plastic card, shaped much like an old-fashioned, paper bookmark. A chip was at the bottom, where one slid it into a slot to make an order. "It will cover any refreshments you may like."
OMG MY PHONE DELETED THIS TWICE
Though Weiler had been taking careful stock of the surveillance in every area they passed, it was impossible to tell without proper researched blueprints where every lens was. There might have been a few hidden in the most inane of hiding spots. He had no way of saying where the walls had eyes, and even now, in the privacy of Locke's sole apparent company, Weiler cast wary glances around the hall with his eyes.
"It must have been hard for you," Weiler said sympathetically, sauntering up to Locke with a scheming smile. "Putting up with the Senator's whims all day."
EVIL PHONE
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"That woman there will help you with arrangements," he said, gesturing to a circular desk in the middle of the lobby. "Also, as it so happens, Milo, I don't have any engagements for the next two days. If you'd like to get together sometime." Locke had enough foresight to appear modest and hopeful as he suggested it.
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Would they be suspicious if we met that often?
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Once a month should be fine. But really, the food is terrible.
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Withdrawing his hand, Weiler crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow. "So that's it? You're going to make me come to you otherwise? What a hard catch you're turning out to be, Mister Avery."
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"I'd offer to compensate you, but I'm sure your senator is missing his Pinot Grigio about now. Perhaps another time."
but first a tag
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