Marc's office was still there. Which was worth noting because he could make it go somewhere. But, yanno, fine. If he had to be in charge of the place might as well have somewhere to be in charge from. Somewhere that didn't involve inviting people into the private residence. (Which was entirely a concern for privacy and not for Watts and Steven's cat who still got skittish around strangers sometimes. Just so that was clear.)

Today Marc was at his desk and using his phone to try to look up information on buying and installing outdoor speakers. Midnight could do a lot of things but creating something electronic that allowed for playing music either on the roof or out by the grill was apparently not on that list.

Getting this done was on Marc's list because... it was getting warmer out and the residents would probably make use of such a thing.

What? That wasn't not a reason.

All of which meant Marc was in his office, regretting the choices in life that led him to try to navigate his way through far too many pop-ups on websites that sold outdoor speakers, and thinking a tiny bit fondly of the days when his annoyances came in the form of people trying to shoot him.

Out front the chalkboard sign had the usual note about rooms available for rent, along with one underneath it which said Come on in, office is to your right. Don't mind Marc, he has other facial expressions, we promise.

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