Baromir had walked woodenly back to his office. It was an amazing feat he managed to climb down the mezzanine on the bridge. He didnt really see anyone, but he made the motions of acknowledging salutes and greetings.<br/><br/>Finally he was in his appointed room. Unlike many Factotums of the Aquairre's past, he prefered dataslates over parchment. There was still a hefty stack of them in one corner, with a servitor feeding them to the cogitator engine one deck below. Servo skulls brought in or took away slates, but with the recent haul of the Valiance, more were coming in that leaving at the moment. Much easier to cross reference and pull up data that was already within the cogitators.  The room had the expected accutrements, trophies, maps, the massive pict screen that he used to correlate all the finances of Cortez's ventures. Most of the numbers started to turn green instead of the red of debt as more slates entered the cogitators.<br/><br/>On one side of the room was a massive holo-fire hearth, the heat and crackling sounds, radiated from cleverly hidden coils and speakers. He peered into those dancing flames, so odd that the warp danced similarly and not at all like flame. But flame burns... it burns all and that was a comfort.<br/><br/>He perked his head as Sarah entered his office, he was still disheveled, but his countenance was restored some. "Ah, Ms. Sarah. What did you have in mind for this propaganda. Oh, forgot..." He moved to his desk and pulled up a crystal glass and a burbonne decanter, "would you care for a glass? It's a '769 from that last world we were on. Quite good."