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The office was easily the most impressive room Daventree had seen within the Factory, and it wouldn’t have been out of place within the Dome itself. The desk dominated, a dark-wood affair that was either genuine or an extremely well-crafted facsimile, and there were the standard three chairs around it, one behind and two to the front. Each chair was high-backed, and the black leather reflected the light in a manner that spoke of quality.
Of course, the bald man adorned in black clothing, standing almost to attention just by the door, wouldn’t have been a common feature under the glass. Thankfully, Daventree’s chair faced away from that gentleman, although his presence settled on the back of Daventree’s neck most uncomfortably.
The walls were adorned with strategically-placed
