Suo, who had a name that awkwardly followed the traditional naming convention of his parents home--he was the first generation of his family to be born in this country-- was seated quietly at his desk, in his office. The place was spartan, and very neatly arranged. Off to one side was a small filing cabinet, which kept important information that he did not quite trust with their secretary; or anyone else, for that matter.<br/><br/>Off to another side, he had this small potted bamboo plant, which was the centerpiece of a three foot by three foot Zen garden, which held sand in it, a little rake, designs drawn in the sand with said rake, and various stones of small to medium size and shape dotting it irregularly.  Some times, he found he did his best thinking while 'cultivating' it.<br/><br/>In the center of his office was a desk of good, sturdy wood, which despite the presence of a few scuffs and tiny indents and missing bits, was otherwise well taken care of. He had only a small ceramic mug on a coaster, its contents currently being some sort of cold herbal tea, three sharpened pencils laying side-by-side, a rotary telephone, incense burner, and a small leather notepad.<br/><br/>The windows that otherwise would reveal a decent view of a street were closed, to keep out the sound, and had thick blinds drawn down, to keep out the light. A small, standing lamp, was off in another of the corners of his room, but it was currently off, resulting in his office being so dark as to make one think that he was absent.<br/><br/>The man himself was clad in a set of robes that would identify him as a practitioner of magic. Even more specifically, the heraldry of the robe would indicate that he was a graduate of Miskatonic University's magic classes.<br/><br/>For now, he remained looking at his desk, quite pensively; as if he was lost in thought over something of great import.