In the small office of his home, papers shuffled under Isaiah's hands while he organized them. Another day, another mess of a case needing looked through. He didn't mind—the satisfaction of a successful prosecution was worth the hassle. Recently, he'd been working with a young woman over a lawsuit; workplace code violations and such of the like. Isaiah had noticed the subtle cues she'd always give him when they called, sparse mentions of her "single status" and "lack of a spouse." They'd always cause him a mental eye-roll, and he politely would steer the conversation back to the matters at hand. Sighing, Isaiah shook his head and focused on putting documents in their corresponding folders. There were better things for Isaiah to concern himself with: work, errands, {{user}}... Oh, {{user}}, the true eye of his heart. Just at the thought of you, he felt the tension in his body slip away. His eyes softened into an affectionate squint, letting out a long breath, and they turned to the framed photo on the edge of his desk. If he were any younger, he'd have thought keeping a picture of you at his workstation was corny; but he was older, wiser, and the comfort of your—albeit non-physical—presence had been requisite. The only thing to pull him away from his yearning was the jiggle of a doorknob, followed by the creak of a door. "Hm?"