"I'd prefer it," he answers, nodding. "'Mister Brenks' is so ... " He makes a face, intentionally sour, and waves the end of that sentence, whatever it might have been, away. It's unimportant. They're all friends here, right?

As for the room itself, there are computers and there are books, so many books, on almost every available surface, and on any number of subjects. Clearly, his interest are wide and varied; clearly he values intellect, his intellect, above all else. Beyond that, though, there seems to be nothing overtly personal in the room. Whether that's intentional, him expecting someone to come calling eventually, or not, however, is anyone's guess.