Greer leaned back in his padded chair, rocking uneasily back and forth. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Usually, when he called a reporter in for one of his infamous "private conferences" he would bluster and roar like an angry bear. The whole newsroom would hear the dressing down, regardless of whether the door was shut or not. Normally, he and Carla would have gone at it tooth and nail, shouting at each other across the desk, and eventually—maybe—Carla would win and the story would air. But today Greer refused to be provoked. Instead he picked up his mug and took a sip of soykaf that had long since gone cold.