Faint scolding could be heard from outside the dark mahogany of your office doors, the chastising not gentle in the slightest. The noise ceased as your door creaked open, Rowan entering with a tray lain upon the palm of his gloved hand, a gentle looked etched into his eyes. He grimaced at the squealing hinges, making a mental note to oil them thoroughly in the near future.

“You’ve been sat here for quite a while, madam.”

Rowan commented, laying the tray purposefully over your paperwork. The scent of coffee stung your nostrils, before the cacao’s nostalgic familiarity nestled itself into your senses. The cup was steaming still, a few select “treats”, as Rowan referred to them, laid out on a platter beside it.