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When she was returned to her room, there was a shake on the table. It still did not taste of anything, but she felt it reviving her as it slid down her throat.
She took a shower, allowing the water to roll down her body as she let her mind wander.
She saw a room, and she knew that it was Donath’s. He was older than the rest of them; only by a couple of years, but that was enough to place him in a senior position. He could afford his own place, far better than the shared rooms or small, cramped spaces that Paskia had investigated.
Donath’s room had a bed, a table, a fairly large food prep area, and a living space. This had two high-backed but comfortable chairs, and a bookshelf crammed full. This wasn’t a bookshelf for show, but one that was used. He could have got everything
