They reach their destination, to what Sarah Marks presumes to be the crème de la crème of an American dynasty. And for the most part, she would be correct. There are grimy windows with white light streaming in, decor she doesn't snort at, and if not for that monstrosity blocking one part, it would be a place of never-ending sunlight during a clear day. A perfect place for a person such as herself.

She can't enjoy it, however, not with the subject at hand. She steps toward the railing, going on her tip toes to rest her elbows on the metal. "...I'm surprised you're not with him," she gives. "Guessing he said he needed to be alone for a spell."