Ctirad had no expectations as he followed Timaios down a very nice hallway. The art here was different, less bland, all of it of the skyline, of the city, but from many different eras. It had feeling, he thought, even if you could see the style evolving over the centuries.
Timaois nodded to a man with shoulders so broad he could probably carry Ctirad across them easily; the man nodded back. “Mr. Kaprinsky . Anything you need, sir?”
“No, thank you, Eddy. Ah. This is Ctirad. He’s with me, and is okay to enter without me as well.”
“Very good, sir.” The look Eddy gave Ctirad appeared to be scanning him, taking in everything from his height to his haircut. “Is this what you normally look like, sir?”
Ctirad did not blush, but only because he had very good control over his Mask. He cleared his throat. “The face, yes. You’ll have to ask Himself here about the rest.”
“The hair will probably be growing out, but the rest of him is as you see it, yes.” Timaios chuckled. “On the ball as usual, I see, Eddy.” Continue reading