Two members of his personal guard escort me and place themselves on sentry duty right outside the door. Ronald’s office is, on the whole, a pretty standard affair: basic desk, high-backed, leather chair, two low-backed, leather chairs for guests, a couple of bookshelves, and a potted plant in the back, left corner of the room. There are indulgences to be found as well: the Persian-style rug on the floor, with floral medallions riding out towards the edges, the engravings on the outside of the bookshelves, the crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling—restrained luxury. “How was breakfast?” Ronald is watching me from behind his desk, hands folded in his lap, while I comb through his library of books on government and law. “It was fantastic, can’t thank you enough; the bacon especially.” “My personal favorite food group as well. We’re running low on the stuff, but should be getting more in soon.”
