‘Sit,’ Mladin gestured expansively to the low couch set against the back wall. The couch was black, like every other damn thing in the room. Yasha was really beginning to get sick of the depressive aesthetics.

‘Do you need a torch to find things in here?’ he asked trying not to sink into the couch cushions. The only source of light came from a handful of coloured glass light fixtures stuck to the wall. Each light gave off a different coloured glow adding to his headache.