Tanneau smiles sourly. He points across the room at a walled corner with frosted glass. He starts forward without permission, hardly listening as her protests receed behind him. He peers through the door at the well-dressed men and women sitting around the glossy stone table. He opens the door and steps through.
Every head looks up in shock.
His voice is faintly mocking, but with a friendly undercurrent. He is not tall. He takes in the table with a motion of his head, and the others relax. Correta steps around the desk and they clasp forearms in greeting. Then Correta looks over Tanneau's shoulder at the functionary who had followed.