He glanced around the room. It seemed like a living room, but he drought it 
might once have been an office. Paintings hung everywhere. Near the baseboards. 
Near the ceiling. Some on the ceiling. Pictures of colored squares. Pictures of 
minotaurs done in a cyber-ware motif. Wild colors in broad strokes covered the 
walls beneath the paintings. Colors everywhere. Undoubtedly it was Liaison’s
handiwork. It had the same untamed palette as her clothes.