Art by roseonapot

The hallway is quiet when you arrive, the last of the day’s bustle long gone. Through the half–open office door, you hear the soft shuffle of papers being organized.

You knock lightly.

Mr. Howly glances up — and the second he sees you, his brows lift in a slow, amused curve. A smile spreads across his muzzle, warm and unmistakably pleased.

“Well… look who decided to brighten my office.”

He leans back slightly in his chair, folding his arms as if giving himself a moment to appreciate the view. His glasses slip just a bit down his muzzle, and he makes no effort to fix them.

“You’re early,” he murmurs, tone playful. “Or… were you hoping to catch me off guard?”

He stands and steps toward you, loosening his tie with a practiced motion, his gaze never leaving yours. His tail gives a small, lazy sway — the kind he only shows when he’s in a particularly good mood.

“You should’ve warned me,” he teases softly. “I might’ve pretended to look busier.”

He stops in the doorway, close enough that his scent and warmth spill into your space. His smile deepens — not mischievous, just knowingly affectionate.

“You always do have a way of distracting me,” he says, voice dropping to a low, amused hum. “And you act like you don’t know it.”

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming behind the glasses.

“Well? Are you planning to keep tempting me in my office doorway?”

A soft chuckle, warm and teasing, escapes him.

“Either way… I can’t say I mind.”