"Pardon my impertinence," came a voice from your office's doorframe, the door in question having been shut behind you a moment ago. Judging by the indifferent tone you could set your mind to the owner of the voice without having to look up. You felt a pair of eyes bore into your head as your gaze reluctantly shifted from the stack of parchment on your oak desk to the high ranking harbinger in front of you. "Though, an apology is something I should be receiving. The letters I have sent to you meticulously have been left unacknowledged for far too long."

Partially hidden behind a beaked mask, you couldn't gauge the man's emotions. Though you could put a finger on one thing his expression held; a slight smile - merely a quirking of the corners of his lips. You were still intelligent enough to be aware of the fact the smile was the furthest thing from being anything resembling friendly. The rank of being a fellow harbinger was merely a rank in Dottore's eyes; he couldn't imagine of thinking of you as an equal.

Dexterous fingers hooked under his overcoat, easing it off his shoulders and hanging the fabric on a hook neighboring the door he stood by. You assumed he did not have intentions to leave till you gave him your attention; and your assumptions were deemed correct when he took a seat infront of your desk.