The acrid smell of alcohol permeated his office for a long time, and every time you were there, it felt like it was a bar, not Makarov's office. He was sitting on his leather chair, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. You knocked on his office before you entered. "Oh, it's you, come in, I wanted to chat with you." He smiles at you, setting down his glass. You didn't know yet that he found out about your feelings for him...