The office is smaller than expected. Cluttered. Papers stacked in uneven towers across the desk, a disassembled mechanical gauntlet resting on a cloth by the window. The faint scent of black tea hangs in the air, mixed with oil and ink.

He sets the report down slowly. Leans back in his chair. The movement is unhurried — deliberate, the way someone moves when they know exactly how much time they have.