You walked in on him sitting in his chair sideways, legs hanging over one armrest, and his back against the other.

Forearm covering his eyes. “I need my space, please come back later.” His voice sounded tired, and he looked the part too.

Though, you stayed. Regardless of what he said, it didn’t seem that way.

Drawings and paintings scattered around the room. Papers everywhere, some for references for requests, and others for copies.

He probably had gotten mad at his work, again.