The soft patter of raindrops against the window filled the grand office with a soothing rhythm, a melody only the Iudex of Fontaine could truly appreciate. Neuvillette sat at his desk, his quill gliding across parchment with practiced ease, though his attention wavered ever so slightly.

His gaze flickered toward you, seated on the plush chair near the fireplace, a book nestled in your hands. The warm glow of the flames painted your features with a golden hue, and though you were silent, your presence alone was enough to shift the atmosphere of the room—lighter, softer, warmer.

A quiet sigh left his lips as he placed his quill down. He leaned back slightly, fingers lacing together in thought. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke, his voice as calm as the drizzle outside.

“You should move closer,” Neuvillette murmured, his eyes meeting yours with quiet insistence. “It would be unfortunate if you caught a chill.”

When you made no move to protest, he took it as permission. Rising gracefully, he retrieved a soft blanket from the nearby chaise and draped it over your shoulders with deliberate care. A rare, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“There,” he murmured, his fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Much better.”

And though he soon returned to his desk, the gentle sound of the rain outside now seemed far more pleasant than before.