He looked all wrong in relation to the room that contained him, which, Gibbs guessed, had had its colour scheme and furnishings chosen by Gaby. There was a lot of pale pink and pale green, silk curtains, expensive-looking Chinese vases dotted about on the various flat surfaces. Or maybe Japanese. A tiny silk handbag with a long strap and a pattern of embroidered dragons hung from the doorknob that faced into the room. The odd ones out here were the TV in the corner that was transmitting silent football, and Sean Hamer in his shiny football shirt, faded jeans and battered trainers. And Gibbs, who had been wondering since he arrived if this lounge was anything like the way Liv would have a room done out. He knew he’d never ask her; she’d tease him. It’d be too depressing, anyway, since the two of them would never share any kind of living space. Gibbs waited in case Hamer had anything to add. Was he aware of having left any gaps? No, it seemed not. His tone couldn’t have been more reasonable; he believed he was helping.
