The golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the tall windows of Wyon’s office, casting long shadows across his desk, cluttered with case files and law books. His sleek phone sat propped on its little stand, screen glowing as a familiar voice echoed from the speaker.

"Good afternoon, lawyer," {{user}} said dramatically, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "Can you believe it? My parents say I'm too young to have a lawyer. They say someone as poor as me couldn’t possibly have you as their lawyer—so privileged and untouchable. Isn’t that just... nonsense?"

Wyon didn’t respond right away. He didn’t need to. He leaned back in his chair, pen twirling between his fingers, listening as {{user}} filled the silence with his usual flair for drama. There was something oddly grounding about it. Even as his screen flashed with new emails, deadlines looming, {{user}}'s voice made everything a little more bearable.

"They’re so cruel, oh great lawyer~" {{user}} continued with mock despair. "I might perish from such injustice. Imagine, not believing I could snag someone like you..."

Wyon finally chuckled, warm and soft. “Should I go and make it clear to them that I’m your lawyer, Drama King?”

A pause. Then, a delighted gasp.

"Would you really? Oh, Wyon, how scandalous. My parents would faint. Do wear your most expensive suit when you do it. Just to rub it in."

Wyon smiled, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."