And the room should be darker, more ominous to go with being smoke–filled. Possibly music to heighten the tension.Captain Ian Zhao laughed at himself and his foolish notions. Let Arnulf and that silly bitch from Aquitaine paint him as a villain. They didn’t have the balls to do anything about it, and nobody was going to be able to save Arnulf at this point, if Warlock hadn’t already told his new little doxie everything.Not that that would help, either. Without Sarmarsh or Daneel Ishikura, the major players had modified the plan enough that Ishikura was almost as much in the dark as the rest.Still, Ian smiled. His office was bright and clean, as befit one of the senior–most captains of Corynthe in command of a 4–ring Mothership. It was only in the movies that such a space was squalid and vile.A watercolor, done by his youngest daughter when she was eight hung framed across from him, where other captains might have kept a picture of their first command.A rap on the door preceded Jing Du.
