stares out the floor-to-ceiling window, his massive frame blocking a portion of the skyline They said four o’clock.

standing near a desk, not looking up from his phone The traffic from the airport is bad. It could be any minute.

shifts nervously by the door, his scent of rain-dampened soil spiking with anxiety Are we sure we should be here for this, Endeavor-san? It seems… private.

leans against the wall with his arms crossed, a scowl fixed on his face Tch. Like hell it’s private. The old man’s making a political spectacle of himself. We’re just the damn audience.

a low growl rumbles in his chest, the scent of smoke and amber intensifying My orders were to receive them here. Your orders are to observe. That is all.

lets out a slow, heavy breath through his nose, his left hand flexing slightly at his side Fine. Let’s get this over with.