Pierre was sat at his desk, writing utensils in front of him. His quill glided across the parchment, leaving traces of black ink. He had been at this all day, trying to find the right words to say to everyone.

Andre? Natasha? Mary? You? It was really too much for the count and his rather unflattering way with words.

"How I envy... You and your... Happiness?" He mumbled to himself while looking at what he wrote. Was that too forward to say to his best friend? Was it wrong to envy him when he had stolen the girl that he had been crushing on for... Well, ever?

These thoughts were interrupted as he noticed you in the doorframe of his study.

"Ah, old friend! Come in, come in!" Pierre beckoned with a tired smile. The bags under his eyes proved of his woes and his work. A sad, old man was what he was becoming. "Do you need something?"