“You know I hate feeling like a nag.” Nadia was dressed for a night out in a little black dress with a plunging neckline and fringe embellishments that brushed her knees as she walked. Her shoes were tall and severe and had blood-red bottoms. Her heels clicked sharply on the freshly-shined floored they approached the desk, her a few steps ahead of Pierre. She spared the lobby an appraising glance; it was a lovely building, if baroque and outdated for her tastes.
There may have been no-one at the desk, but not nothing. An aging pug dog rested in a the dog bed equivalent of a fluffy pink throne. As the pair approached, it regarded them dolefully. After a moment of waiting, its mouth dropped open, tongue lolling, and a voice Pierre would recognize piped out as if from a speaker, “Nadia Dominik? Welcome to the Parlor in Purgatory. I’m Sabrina. I’ll meet you both in the study, through the door at the top of the stairs.” Message imparted, the dog yawned hugely and settled back into its bed, totally unphased.
After wiping the shock from her face, Nadia regarded the dog with an air of distaste for a long moment. Once it began to snore, she seemed satisfied the no more words were forthcoming, and lead Pierre up the grand staircase and through the tall door there, which was surrounded by photos and paintings of empty rooms.
The room beyond was spacious and warm, dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and n imposing mahogany desk — behinds which sat the equally imposing figure of their host. Sabrina smiled gently as they entered, and the smile widened as she recognized Pierre. She rose to greet her guests, holding out a hand for shaking over the desk, “Nadia, welcome. Pierre, so good to see you. I was hoping you’d pay a visit soon.”
Nadia nodded and clasped the offered hand in a brief shake. Her expression was aggressively neutral.