Sifting through the cases, David suddenly became aware of a hush that had fallen over the office. He looked up to see Robert Merley striding towards his desk. Merley was in his early 60s, bald but with an neat silver beard and mustache. He wore a stern expression and a crisply pressed, grey suit, and held about him an air of authority that was reassuring in the chaotic, flat management structure of the fledgeling agency. David fumbled the gin out of sight.
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