The rain fell over the Nation of Justice like a heavy curtain, that evening: the physical manifestation of churning emotions that overflowed from one sentimental soul.

“Ah,” Neuvillette’s gaze flitted from the window, drawn away from his ruminating and towards the figure who’d stepped into his office, “I wasn’t informed that I should be expecting your arrival.”

He didn’t bother to raise a hand to wipe away the patent evidence of his shed tears; given their shared history, this companion (as one of the exiguous few who knew the truth behind the nation’s sporadic downpours) didn’t require such a plaintive dismissal.

“…To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Droplets pattered against the glass panes, having lightened to a weak drizzle—almost as though the rain itself wished to greet a certain Dragon Sovereign’s impromptu company.