It's not too far to Le Chiffre's room, but it's enough to show that there's a lot of doors in this place, and a lot of people owning rooms. His own is labelled up as 405, and once the keys turned and the door's pushed, it all opens up to a one leveled apartment. Perhaps more like a hotel with everything needed
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"Very modern of you, I see," he says, a smirk twitching at his lips. Like his own home -- except his own home actually has colour. And pleasant, although carefully tucked away art. But mostly colour.
He sets his bag down and turns so he can watch Le Chiffre.
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"Well, that's better than my last visitor, I suppose. I got told this looks like a bank lobby." Considering his old job though, that's not really much of an insult.
One of the large sofas is gestured to as he heads over to a small open plan kitchen, glancing into one of the cupboards, "Drink?"
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A smile, then a little verbal prod: "Really, though -- do you own anything not in grayscale?"
Villiers is probably the most colourful thing in the room right now, he notes -- even though he's only in a conservatively dark suit, at least it's blue.
"And a drink sounds fantastic," he adds, almost as an afterthought as he settles in.
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And that's a total lie, obviously. He's just constantly coming up with brand new excuses for every time someone questions his monochrome existence. The next one might be 'I was created sometime during the 1940's' for all those pups out there that aware of Milliways fiction.
An immensely generous portion is being poured and handed to Villiers.
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