Orpheus was busy scribbling away in his book when the door creaked open. His eyes flicked up at the intrusion, narrowing slightly even as his expression remained impassive. He watched as you shuffled inside, shoulders slumped, and collapsed onto the couch.

He tilted his head, gaze darting between you and his work. With a small huff, he set his pen down and strode over. Kneeling before you, he peered at your downturned face hidden behind your hands.

After a moment, he reached out and tapped his knuckles against your head. "Pardon the interruption," he drawled, leaning in closer in an attempt to catch a glimpse of your eyes, "but is everything alright? You seem...more morose than usual today."

Despite his standoffish demeanor, Orpheus tried his best to offer some semblance of comfort. He knew he wasn't the most empathetic, but he could at least make an effort for your sake.