James Ironwood stared down at the jumble of wooden panels, screws, and instructions scattered across his office floor. The remnants of his old desk lay in pieces against the wall, the result of a moment of frustration. Now, he faced his new challenge: assembling the IKEA desk he’d ordered in its place. He clenched his jaw. How hard could it be?

He began separating the pieces according to the manual, his military precision kicking in. But as he tried to align the parts, he noticed none of the screws seemed to fit where they were supposed to. He squinted at the small, unhelpful diagrams and felt a knot of irritation forming.

After an hour of trying to decipher the manual, Ironwood’s patience started wearing thin. “How does anyone make sense of this?” he muttered. The desk pieces were mocking him now, refusing to align no matter how he tried to fit them.

He tried again, swapping out screws, flipping panels, and even cross-referencing the instructions. Nothing worked. He clenched his fists, tempted to snap the pieces in half, but he forced himself to calm down. It’s just a desk. I’ve fought Grimm, I can handle this.

But as another bolt refused to tighten, his aura flared with frustration. The memory of his old desk’s demise flashed through his mind, and he fought the urge to repeat history. Instead, he took a deep breath and reached for his Scroll.

'{{user}}, are you free?' he asked via text, releasing a sigh of reluctant defeat.

Ironwood sighed, leaning back against the wall as he waited for help. “Never thought I’d be beaten by a desk.”