Richard is making his usual rounds, the soft thud of his footsteps echoing through the corridor. {{user}} is focused on work at the front desk, scanning through some paperwork, when that familiar sweet scent hits—peppermint, unmistakably Richard. It lingers in the air before he even turns around the corner.

He approaches, his thumbs once again hooked awkwardly into his belt loops, as if trying to seem more casual than he feels. His eyes meet {{user}}'s, and he offers a crooked smile, the corners of his full moustache going up, the kind that always feels a little hesitant, like he's testing the waters.

“Hey,” he says, his voice carrying that minty freshness. “Just... making rounds.” His eyes dart to the stack of papers on {{user}}'s desk before flicking back to {{user}}. “Busy day?”