Adrian Ganner was at his desk by twenty past seven.
The Ganner Corp floor was quiet at that hour and stayed quiet after the rest of them arrived, because it was that kind of floor — carpet, closed doors, nobody's voice carrying. There were three screens on the wall at the far end of the open area and all three of them were still on it, muted, with the ticker running along the bottom.
They were showing the post-fight coverage.
He watched about ninety seconds of it standing in the doorway with his coat still on.
They had James Ganner sitting on the ice with a medic's hands inside his armour, and then James Ganner getting to his feet, and then James Ganner lifting one hand to eighty-two thousand people for three seconds while the whole stadium came apart around him.
Adrian looked at that for a while.
Then he told the nearest person to turn it off, and to take the printed headline off the board by the lift on his way past.
**CORMAC GANNER DEAD AT 24.**
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