Arik looked at the foyer, then at Liam. "Money cannot create taste."
Liam's eyes moved over the stripped walls, the walnut reception tables, the low charcoal chairs, the black stone runners, and the complete absence of decorative birds committing crimes from the corners.
"No," he said, reluctantly. "But it can hire people with taste."
"That is what we did."
"Practical."
"Survival," Arik corrected. "The original version had gold-framed mirrors facing each other across the hall."
Liam stopped walking.
He turned his head very slowly. "Facing each other."
"With ether lighting," Arik added.
Liam closed his eyes. "That is not interior design. That is an optical weapon."
Noah, walking behind them at a deeply unsafe distance, made a sound of agreement. "I got a headache in six minutes."
"You complained by minute two," Mezos said.
"Bravery often complains."
Liam opened his eyes, looking around again with sharper, more suspicious appreciation. "You removed the mirrors."
