Acceptable
Galanis wore three layers of clothing and a pair of gloves. It was his own Flame-taken fault, for needing to. He'd chosen the coldest room in the labyrinth below Silva. He'd tried putting in a furnace once, but the ventilation was shite and it somehow brought in the stink from rest of the sewers.
He'd heard somewhere it was a good strategy, keeping it cold as it was. Anyone coming to deal with him would be real uncomfortable-- and that'd give him an edge. Galanis was a smart guy. He'd take every advantage he could get. That's how a guy survived for so long, doing what he did.
It just didn't occur to him at the time that the higher up the ladder he got, the less time he had to deal with the rabble. The less time dealing with the rabble, the more stupid he felt for having to live in the Flamescarred cold.
If he wanted a second office, he should have got one five years back-- back before everyone knew that he was the wealthiest sack of shite in Silva.