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The chair wasn’t comfortable, and Dale’s feet still hurt. The eight-foot table wobbled if he put his elbows on it. An overhead air vent ran constantly, sending down chill air to try to compensate for the mass of people in the distant lobby.
Despite all that, Dale felt more relaxed than he had since coming to the hotel.
The crowd was far enough away that Dale couldn’t be expected to decipher their words. Out there, the stink of excited people and carryout dinner would overwhelm his nose. Back in this hallway, though, the only competition with the hotel’s ethereally faint orchidy-citrusy perfume was the pepperminty remnants of Chain’s breath mint.
Best of all, though? Just like Imena’s Chaos Machine across the hall had a scaffold to guide and support the tracks, the game gave Dale a s
