Solomon casually walked over to one of the plush leather chairs positioned in front of the desk and sat down. Richard slowly sank back into his own high-backed executive chair, while Marcus remained standing rigidly by the floor-to-ceiling glass window.
Marcus and Richard exchanged a rapid, silent conversation with their eyes, silently confirming the trap was set and they just needed to stall for time.
Solomon adjusted his seating, pushing the backrest to recline comfortably. He then lifted his boots that were still smeared with dirt and fresh blood, and planted them directly onto the surface of Richard's desk.
Then, he let out a loud, exaggerated sigh.
"What kind of terrible hospitality is this?" Solomon complained, crossing his arms behind his head. "Nobody is even asking me if I would like a glass of water or something to drink. And where are the documents I asked for?"
