Redsand Canyon days of creation

Whatever was going on in the upper echelons of the Saints was unknown to him as the dealings of shady Wall Street bankers. Donovan conducted his own version of diplomacy, the stock market numbers ticked in reams across a massive screen, the world's gears turned.

Renard stays intensely quiet, reclined back in an invisible chair. He might as well have been snubbing a cigar out in a porcelain ashtray with all the smoke he had around his face. Even politicians didn't smile like that. 

Are you going to... talk? If Renard's smile is incorrigible, Colin's smile is vaguely confused, brows pinched together in polite and restrained puzzlement. 

It strikes him that with Donovan's absence, the Canyons have been infinitely quieter. The loss of one man turned a whole city into a ghost town, complete with tumbleweeds and saloon doors swinging open to reveal nothing.