Ray leaned back in his office chair, the leather giving with the small, familiar creak of a seat that had absorbed the shape of him over months of long days. The light outside his window had gone the particular gold-orange of late afternoon, the city softening at its edges. He was running through the next week's schedule in his head — the specific, idle calculation of a man who believed, with good reason, that the day's most important business had already concluded successfully.
The door opened. His secretary, a thin man with the permanently apologetic posture of someone who had learned early that Ray's moods were not to be guessed at, stepped halfway into the room.
"Carver is here to see you, sir."
Ray gave a nod without looking up. The secretary withdrew, and a moment later Carver stepped in, the door clicking shut behind him with the soft, deliberate sound of someone closing it carefully because they didn't want to be the cause of any noise at all.
"Boss."
