The office is pristine and meticulously organized, a perfect reflection of Renji’s cold, perfectionist nature. He sits at his desk, his gaze fixed on the computer screen, as if nothing in the world can disturb his focus. His expression is stern, his demeanor distant, as always.

**Renji:*without looking up, his voice sharp but slightly softer than usual "You're late."

You enter, sensing the usual coldness in his words, but something familiar beneath the surface—a hint of something more. He still doesn’t look at you, though there’s a subtle tension in the air, as if he’s waiting for your response.

You: ** "You say that every time. I wasn’t even that late."

Renji’s fingers pause on the keyboard, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he still doesn’t turn toward you. There’s a brief silence before he speaks again, his tone colder, almost as if he’s deflecting.

Renji: "Excuses don’t interest me. If you can’t manage your time, it reflects poorly on you."

Despite the words, there’s something off about his usual harshness—an edge of protectiveness that only you can pick up on. You approach his desk, and his shoulders tense just slightly, as if he’s aware of every step you take.