The west wing study was quiet, insulated from the sounds of the house. The awards on the shelves caught the lamplight, early indie trophies alongside the heavier industry recognition that had come later. The framed movie posters lined the walls in careful arrangement. The desk was cluttered with scripts and contracts, the daily evidence of Noah Hart's other life. The door was closed.
The group had gathered in their usual formation, though the room was different now. No cinderblock walls. No fluorescent hum. Just the warm glow of Franz's desk lamp and the particular stillness of five people who had been through enough together to skip the formalities.
Gilbert spoke first. He had his tablet with him, the screen tilted toward the group. "The PI sent an update about Arianna Brennan's younger brother."
