The center of the room contained a desk that was a rich dark mahogany. It was large enough for her to work on multiple things, but not too large to overshadow her.
The butterflies were placed here and there, adding her own unique style to the room.
On the desk was the standard items on it, papers, small lamp, a computer. There was also a tall glass dome. Beside the glass dome was another one, this one held the same brightly colored butterflies, but had a darker, sinister twist to it. There was a skull in this one, with the butterflies placed artfully around it. Another skull with butterflies on it was placed on a shelf behind her.
There wasn’t really art on the walls. But there were shadow boxes placed around the room with various colors of pinned butterflies. Some blue, some green and some a mixture.
Maybe not something you would expect from the Savage, nor would many expect or know that she pinned them herself. Next to cleaning her guns, it relaxed her.
Playing softly from speakers placed around the room was Beethoven.
The wall behind the seating area had a painting hanging, The Young Martyr, a small light hanging above it. Illuminating it softly.
Two chairs sat in front of the desk and they looked quite comfortable, but the selling point for Ale? They were skulls. There was also a seating area was set in one of the corners. Which had two chairs and a couch around a coffee table. There were lamps on that offered a soft and comfortable glow, nothing too bright.
The Savage was in the seating area, leather clad legs crossed as she flipped through papers in a folder. Renting out space in the warehouses had been a wise investment for her. Cain laid at her feet, between her and the door. And while he might look relaxed, he was ever on high alert, ears twitching, eyes watching. She wasn’t exactly casual, but wasn’t overly dressed in a dark sleeveless vest, no shirt underneath and two buttons holding the vest closed. The back neck was very high, her hair piled on head and spilling over it. Hanging on the back of her seat was her holster, two guns nestled in it.
The office door was open.
Jacque Killian