He stared at the reflection. There were new lines at the corners of his eyes. He followed with his eyes. His nose jutted before him like the prow of a ship. His eyes were ice blue and cold. His blood felt hot in his veins. Hot with the boil of a man driven to power by a greedy need. He was a thin man by genetics, not athletics. He had gray hair that was receding slowly and dyed black to satisfy his vanity. He was not an old man. The premature gray also ran through his family. He did not wish to look like an old man. That would run counter to his objectives. His look was a weapon and he used it as such. He glared at people like an eagle at prey. He was dressed in a fine navy suit with a starched white shirt and a blood red tie. He adjusted the tie a nudge. The picture of power.
The act of self-inspection and admiration helped clear his thoughts. Clear the head. Clear the mind. Focus.
Today was important. Today was another meeting before the board of directors to justify his actions. Once again.
