#robert ffs

"Diana? Dr. Bishop." Late afternoon sun cuts his office in half, and the contrast, the play of light and shadow turns his otherwise prosaic rooms into Renaissance art. Not quite as showy as chiaroscuro, though perhaps one would dare to call it unione. Vibrant. Colorful. Harmonic. She fits right in, Langdon thinks and falters, wondering whether to stand or remain where she found him, with a pen and an ungraded paper in hand.

He opts for the latter, and tries to hide the clumsy pause with a smile, fingers already combing his hair back. "Hi, yes. Yes, I do. Please, come in."