Silence fell over the room like a particularly heavy and awkwardly placed blanket. The recorders shuffled into their respective seats with all the grace of a school assembly — virtues to the left, sins to the right, each side casting side-eyes at the other like rival families at a forced dinner gathering.
Judge, draped in his usual aura of barely concealed exasperation, lounged on his grand throne, which, despite its majesty, had recently started squeaking at the most inopportune moments.
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his fingers, staring down at the absurdly long list of stories he had to provide Clio with. It was so long that if he let it unroll all the way, it would probably stretch out of the room and slap some poor janitor in the face.
