Isaac moved like a man who'd been rehearsing an entrance his whole life - straight-backed, calm, almost annoyingly composed. The doors did not so much open as ripple around him; the automatic sensors blinked, the glass seemed to hesitate, and then he stepped through as if the building itself obliged.
Sven and Takeshi followed, curious as to what their companion was up to.
Inside, the lobby was all gleam and hush: marble that swallowed sound, a carpet so plush it felt criminal underfoot, and a receptionist whose smile strained the moment she saw the three of them. Two security guards straightened at the door, hands drifting to holsters instinctively.
Sven gave a theatrical sigh and rolled his shoulders. "Guess we're doing this again." His grin was bright enough to make the receptionist's knuckles go white.
He blinked and vanished.
