Beyond the gleaming white hall and the door of Authorized Personnel is... a hall. Of course it's a hall; offices and lobbies and halls are the Lego bricks this building is made out of. It's a dim walkway, the artificial lights not quite making up for the lack of windows (with all the twists and turns this must be right in the heart of the ziggurat), and the light seems to be soaked up by the thin carpet of forest green and the Government Gray walls.
Suit doesn't answer, instead following the hall as he hums softly. There's seven doors here, three on each side and one at the end; the six side-doors lead to small offices, easily seen through one large window next to their doors. Right as they enter, Simmons and Rizzo pass an empty office, the lights off. Ed Miller, the placard on the door says, and below that Office of Risk and Insurance, Management.
Three of the offices are not just dark, they're vacant--the desk and chair covered in sheets to keep the dust off until such time someone claims them as their own. The other two offices are occupied, and their owners (a 30ish woman with honey-dark hair and a young black man in a dark suit) watch the agents go by before lowering their gazes to their workstations.
At the end of the hall, Suit opens the door to the last office and flicks the lights on. "Have a seat," he says, settling into the chair behind his desk. He still hasn't given a name, but it's easy enough to read on the door:
Sterling Pruitt, Management