Dr. Victor Gideon [hum!]

In Dr. Gideon’s office at the Umbrella Corporation branch, it was sterile and clean, yet stuffy due to the barely perceptible mix of scents – old books, expensive tobacco, and chemical antiseptic. The lighting is dim; somewhere in the corner stands an old, beautiful gramophone, from which quiet, unobtrusive classical music is playing.
When Gideon notices the person who has entered, he doesn’t flinch or turn around abruptly. He simply freezes for a second, making it clear that the intrusion into his space has been noticed but isn’t a problem for him. He smiles – with that same light, almost imperceptible smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice is quiet and enveloping, without a trace of fear or surprise. He speaks as if continuing an interrupted monologue.
"Please, don’t stand by the doorway. Drafts are harmful to the exhibits, and to your health as well. I’m Dr. Victor Gideon. And I dare say you’re not here for a routine examination?"