Re: [Quicklog: Louis/Peggy]
Excellent question. [Peggy bent slightly to examine her own keypad, more accustomed to dials than the three-by-three distribution of numbers on the metal square. To Louis, the numbers may also look slightly odd, as they seemed to have been requisitioned from an old New York City pay phone, circa 1980 or thereabouts.] I don't know. A... hm... professional predecessor? ...of mine was the owner.
[Peggy might not have made a show of watching her new assistant, but she was. He was obviously tired enough to be barely functional, and yet he had a scholarly, polite air. She theorized he was some sort of diplomatic or corporate transplant, international in flavor. It didn't explain his physical state, but he wasn't mumbling and he didn't smell like alcohol, which was good enough for her. She read off a number, a nine digit one she had memorized, and at the same time she put in a different number of her own.
With two numbers in simultaneously, the sealed metal door came undone and swung open,with a sound like a Tupperware bowl popping. Stale air that smelled of electronics and metal washed toward them, and Peggy moved forward on her low heels, preceding Louis entirely. Without a word to him, she disappeared inside. Her footsteps echoed on cement, once, twice, and then halted.]