Inside, the showroom floor was clean polished concrete and the cars sat under strip lighting that caught every surface, and a salesman appeared within a minute — mid-thirties, dark suit, the kind of unhurried professional manner that said he wasn't going to push anything.
Marco introduced himself and the man's expression shifted slightly in the way it did when a name was recognised, and he led them toward the floor models without wasting time.
"What are you looking for?" he asked, directing the question at Demien.
"Something with rear-wheel drive," Demien said. "Not too big."
The salesman nodded and brought them first to a 430i Coupé in Portimao Blue — four cylinder, clean lines, sensible specification, the kind of car that looked exactly like what it was. Demien walked around it once and put his hand on the roof and looked at the interior through the glass.
"It's fine," he said.
Marco looked at him. "That means no."
"It means it's fine," Demien said, and kept walking.
