Sweeping his feet back under the desk, Garamond leaned forward and sat his half-drained glass on its surface. He stood, dusting down the face of his coat once. His suit was coal grey and finely threaded, hiding subtle stripes that would ghost into visibility only when the light bounced off the fabric just right. The collar of a black shirt and a red tie was framed by the V-shaped neck, a matching red handkerchief in his pocket. He was undoubtedly going somewhere of certain importance.

“Good, good!” He said, and he picked up a black box from the table. The words Edmont Gauthier scribed in cursive in raised metallic ink. He walked up a few steps into the rows of stadium seating and handed it off to Calibri. “I took the liberty of cancelling class today. There’s a party going on at the communications building today, you see. Not too far from here. I have a few clients that I’d like to show who they’re investing in. It’s black tie, so I’ll need you to go and change into this. Go on, I'll be waiting right here.”