[Crossing the room, Falcon followed behind as Sander led him on. He can't say he'd evertook the time to appreciate the sound of footsteps. Given that his footsteps were often heavy and stomping, it wasn't a sound many would have appreciated.
Still, he followed on, looking over the adornments on the walls, taking more interest in photographs rather than the paintings. Falcon had never been big on the arts, although he would admit, some of them were interesting.
It may have been the general state of disrepair, maybe Sander's body language, or that tone in his voice, but the atmosphere was sad, mournful. He felt a definate sense of loss.
He simply nodded in reply. He wouldn't know what to say.]