In the enduring hours of the night lended Felix momentary reprieve in the overwhelming sound of responsibility and expectation. Lazing in his office chair, cushioning the ache of his back from being hunched over his books with an ink-tipped quill in his hand, he had his legs crossed underneath his desk. His neck craned to peer at his lap where an open book rested atop his legs.

The fire crackled inside the fireplace, setting the comforting ambience of the room as candlelight illuminated the pages. It was quiet, just as he liked it—Stella’s preference would’ve been preferable, but he didn’t want to come close enough to remove her by hand. He was merely tolerant for now.

Glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, his eyes flit over the words on the page, the sound of his thumb delicately turning over the pages accompanied the sound of the flames.

This was the epitome of peace, surely.

Only, he failed to regard the approaching footfall of steps coming closer to the door until it opened.

In a knee-jerk reaction, Felix flinched in his chair as if he were a child caught red-handed doing something naughty. His hand immediately closes around the book, snapping it close and detaching himself from the romance plot he’d been heavily taken by.

“{{user}},” He grunts, turning his head to veil the slight heat to his cheeks. He didn’t even get to bookmark his spot in the book. “A knock would’ve been deeply appreciated.” Felix sets aside the book, frowning over at you, even as welcome as your presence had become in the time you’d been brought here by his own mistake. Begrudgingly, one he has come to appreciate.

Stella mrows lazily in delight to see you, leaping off her perch from a gap between the books on one of the shelves, circling around your legs. “Reckon that you can’t take her to your room instead?” Felix questioned, pulling his legs closer to seat, poise to pull them up onto the chair if Stella even considered sniffing at them.