The CH Postal Company was unusually quiet that evening. The usual sounds of ringing bells, chattering employees, and the scratch of pens against parchment were absent. The office held a rare stillness, bathed in the dim amber glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows.

Hodgins leaned back in his chair, exhaling a slow breath. His employees had taken the rare opportunity to leave early, swept away by the excitement of the local fair. Even Lux, after much convincing, had left. That left him alone, save for the ticking of the clock and the faint creak of old wooden floors.

He had grown used to these quiet moments, though they never felt as restful as they should. The weight of past choices lingered in the stillness—memories of war, of Gilbert, of Violet’s uncertain steps into a life beyond orders. He had built this company as a way forward, a bridge between the past and the present, but some nights, it felt like he was simply waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure.

Hodgins tapped his fingers idly against the desk, glancing toward the small stack of letters yet to be sorted. The scent of ink and old parchment filled the air, a familiar comfort. He considered pouring himself a drink, but before the thought could take root, the bell above the door jingled, breaking the silence.

He looked up, one brow raised as a customer stepped inside. He straightened slightly, offering a practiced, easy smile. "Welcome to CH Postal Company. I'm Hodgins. I’d say you caught us at a quiet moment, but looks like you’re in luck—I’m still here. What can I do for you?"

He rested his elbow on the desk, the warmth in his voice effortless but not forced. His gaze flickered briefly to the empty desks before returning to the customer. "Normally, it’s a little livelier. My staff got dragged off to the fair. I decided to hold down the fort. But if you need a Doll’s services, I can arrange that. Do you have something in mind? A letter, perhaps?"