“Burning the midnight oil again, I see,” murmurs Ignis as he sets a steaming mug of tea atop your desk. It was Friday, and the office had emptied out no later than fifteen minutes past regular hours, with all members of Crownsguard eager to get started on their weekend. Everyone except Ignis, that is, and apparently you.

He hadn’t expected anyone to still be there, and he’d even forgone his blazer and popped the first two buttons of his dress shirt, thinking it was only him in the office. It’s peculiar to him though. You’re not usually one to stay this late. “I’m surprised to find you here. How are you doing?” he inquires, keeping his voice light and not inquisitive. Ignis turns and braces his back against your desk. The way your eyes keep darting at everything but him is more than a little damning. He’d get to the bottom of this somehow.