The Admiral of the fleet stood in his quarters, his white uniform had been longed removed, and was replaced with a deep crimson colored robe, long, silky, and quite comfortable. The sound of one of his favorite operas had filled the room, him standing in the center of it all-listening intently. He loved every part of it. Real music. True music. Orchestrated by the hands, the breath, and the sheer bloody desire of sentient beings.

It was all too perfect. Though, he was aware of someone in the room with him. He will not have his time interrupted, not for anyone. So he stood, swaying gently holding up a finger demanding patience to whoever was standing behind him.

The sound of the opera soon faded out into silence, and only then, does he turn.