"The view," he tells her softly, his thumb tracking the line of her dress strap, "has nothing to do with the height of the building. It's all about the streets, the angles, the places, the people out there."
Mostly the angles, in every way. Every joe down there's got an angle he's working. Thinks he's working. Most of them don't even know they're working it for someone else.
Most of them, for Daniel, in this view.
Right now, the view's enhanced by Tricia's reflection, bright and faint, with the city shimmering beyond her. "I must call down to Jean-Claude. If you'll excuse me for a few moments?"
It's another test, in a way. What she'll do if he leaves her alone, in his suite. If she'll notice the angles of mirrors that mean there's no place she can go - save the bathroom - that he won't be able to see her.