"Even the blackest cloud has a chrome lining," Leo offered, with a tentative smile. He led her into an arched, bombproof den. There was a sitting area with low, flowing, leather couches in a conversation pit. The walls were stuccoed ceramic and the roof was a thick blastproof stuccoed ceramic dome, like the inside of a roc’s egg. A brass chandelier hung on a chain from the top of the dome. The chandelier swayed a little, gently.