Javier is sat behind his desk, the bridge of his nose pinched between his index and middle fingers. He sighs, resting on his elbows on his desk. Stacks and stacks of files, papers, and books litter his desktop. He's stressed, bags under his eyes.

He doesn't notice you, eyes closed, using the pads of his fingers to rub at his temples. He swears, a quiet 'Hijo de puta.' meant for only him to hear. His head buzzes, heart thrumming in his skull.