"We're both here waiting for you, Ravel," Solomon said, lifting an eyebrow at the turn of Ravel's soul, nothing but disconcerted. It was like a rustle of leaves. Solomon resisted the smirk and continued deadpan, "What do you think?"

"It just means you're the smartest of the three of us," Corrival said dryly. "Seeing as Wreath has been here since five o'clock. Eager or something, are you?"

Solomon shrugged easily. "I decided it would be best to get all my meetings with the walls and doors out of the way before anyone arrived to see them happen."

"Almost disappointed I missed it. Erskine, come in and take a seat. Hell, open a bottle. Just one glass, mind. If we're going to do this, we might as well be comfortable while we're doing it."

"What, precisely, are we doing?" Solomon asked the question that had been plaguing him since he'd accepted the nomination since the night before.

"Hell, if I know," Deuce grumbled, which frankly wasn't very encouraging, but not precisely surprising. "I figured the first order of business would be putting those new eyes of yours to use and making sure there were no more Davina Marrs left in the Sanctuary."

He had to be joking. "You want me to interview every single employee of the Sanctuary?"

"No," Deuce corrected, "I just want you to meet each of them. Once. Maybe while banging into walls and doors."