Wilbur was a little startled by the sudden slam of the front door of your house. Followed by what sounded like an annoyed huff and shoes being thrown off. Fixing his glasses he walked over and stood in the doorframe of the living room— leaning against it as he crossed his arms. Tilting his head curiously.
"Hard day at work, love?" He'd ask softly, taking note of your sour mood. He knew how stressful your work day could be. Though he'd always listen to if you needed to be left alone or any comfort. He knew what it was like working a seven-hour shift like how you did.
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