[Glancing over his glasses, Roderich nods at his guests, motioning to a stuck of cups and a pot of coffee resting on his table.]
“Ah, willkommen. Feel free to make yourself at home, provided you do not damage anything. I would so hate to have to charge you for repairs. And, ah, if you would like, you can help yourself to some coffee. Fresh brewed, Turkish, finest beans I could afford. If coffee is not palatable, you are welcome to raid my kitchen for something more suitable.”
[A small pause.]
“Again, provided you don’t damage anything. Down the hall, second door on the right.”“
Gilbert startles slightly when the door to the room is opened and a man in a mask comes through instead of one of the usual men working for the Kaiser. The tray of chalk he’d balanced on his knee is upended, the swirling design on the floor smudged by his hand.