A refined man, a man of sophistication. Each glass he holds is lifted gently, making no noise but that of the air swirling around it and the faint hum of his own satisfaction. A controlled sip, a pause to enjoy, and then a swift but gentle decline down to the table’s surface from which it first stood.
In front of him is a wall of information, tables, and graphs: at once swirling with density and pleasing to the eye. He is the only one who knows its meaning. An update refreshes the screen, fluttering with colours and numbers. A gentle grin assures that this bodes good news.
A man walks by him. “Good day, Mr. Sauvignon.” “Good day, Bernard.”