The client stood, something it appeared he hadn’t done in years, and ordered all of his servants out of the room with a wave of his hand. “So. You have arrived. Was your trip a pleasant one?”
Lauren rubbed the swollen knot on her head. “Well, there’s a difference between a crate on a ship and a first class flight, but we’re still alive. Could be worse.”
The client answered with a short, booming laugh. Up close, Lauren could see that he was not a tall man, perhaps five foot six at most. Hell, she was taller than the client was. “You are, you are, that is good, that is good.”
Janus noticed, oddly, that the client’s Russian accent became thicker when he was happy, and remarked on this to Lauren, who turned and whispered, "We’re here. We’ve gotten this far. We are this damn close. And you’re worried about his fucking accent? Instead of being, perhaps, worried about- " She stopped abruptly into silence as she saw the client’s curious stare. She couldn’t help but glance above him, to the head mounted on the wall.