He’s sitting in the library. The metal sheets covering the windows covering all the light, the only thing lighting the room being the lamp sitting on the table as he reads.

He hasn’t bothered going to the morning meeting set up by everyone. Not since the last trial. They were all idiots, they would get themselves nowhere.

His gaze shifts towards the door as he hears someone walking inside. As he sees you walk inside he casts his eyes back to the book he’s reading.

He doesn’t mind you as much as he minds the others, surprisingly. He wouldn’t tell you to leave like some of the others but he’s not going to start conversing with you. He’s above that, of course.