A glass of wine came to rest on an antique wooden table, lowered by a weathered hand. It reflected the light seeping from the nearby glass wall, the source of which was the dense cityscape adorned with countless neon signs and colorful billboards.
Fisher watched the scenery in silence, savoring the calm of the dark room and the subtle aftertaste of his drink. He wasn't alone, as it might seem. His butler was right there, standing in the shadows and pretending not to exist, and the chair next to him was occupied.
Even as the minutes continued to tick by, Jason continued his effort to blend with the furniture. He ignored his growing anxiousness, and though it likely wouldn't have been a problem, he still avoided turning his NIM on. When the silence of the room was finally shattered, his neck almost snapped as he turned to the old man.
