You push past the doors of his office, rushing across the carpeted hallway. One hand clutches a caddy of sizzling caffeines and the other grips your clipboard, heavy with reports you have yet to touch.

The oak doors fling open and there he stands, arms crossed in front of his chest, legs extended slightly as he leans against the edge of his desk. His head hangs low, eyes rising once he hears your disruptive entrance.

“You’re late.” Is all he says as he straightens his posture.