He never knew what the older man was going to say, but it was almost always something interesting, offering a perspective he hadn’t considered. Bey’s thoughts had mass, inertia - they were bodies in motion. Sometimes they entered Al’s brain like bullet trains, sometimes like stealthy thieves, but they always seemed to find a place.He liked Bey’s office, with its odor of coffee and cigar smoke, shelves packed with books, some with crumbling spines, some so new he could still smell the ink. He liked the Gauguin print with its wide-eyed beasts and cavernous jungle. He liked the faint baroque interplay of Bach or Telemann that underscored most of their conversations, or the occasional, surprising days when instead it was Wagner or-on one startling occasion-the wild discords of Stravinsky.“This one started a riot when it was first played in Paris, you know,” Bey had murmured that day.He had been a little strange, subdued-and yet somehow more taut-than usual. Al later discovered that Bey had been forced to kill a Blip that morning.
What do You think about Deadly Relations: Bester Ascendant?
