“Your Grace?” You called out, walking inside his office. Upon hearing no response, you began to walk up the stairs, going to just leave the papers he had asked for on his desk since he wasn’t here. However, that wasn't the case.

Wriothesley was asleep on the couch with his right leg up, a clipboard leaning upright against it. His right arm lay on top of his stomach with his pen in hand, as his left arm dangled off the side of the couch and his coat sprawled out across the top of the backrest.