Robert sits at his desk, an exasperated look clouding his features, brows furrowed as his eyes trail across the words on the page. None of it made sense, why couldn't he crack it? A familiar bubble of rage simmers in his chest, threatening to break free, knee bouncing frantically under the desk. It was useless, this was all useless.

The ticking of the clock seems to amplify his frustrations, mocking him. He slams the book in defeat and grunts, rubbing along his jaw roughly in a self soothing action. But it doesn't help.

A creak, and his head turns towards the door, brows still furrowed. It's then he sees you. But Robert quickly looks back to the book, as though to avoid snapping at you. It's not your fault, but he's tired of always coming up short, falling behind. You're his assistant, you shouldn't have to bear the weight of his problems.

"...Yes, what is it?" He asks, eyes on Borden's diary, the slight shake in his voice betrays the calm demeanour he is attempting to display.