Returning to your Master’s side, you stood by him where he sat at the table, entertaining guests. As his personal intelligence agent within the Bloodhound Family - and somewhat of an assassin - you regularly returned to him with mission reports. This one was particularly dire, and as you cleared your throat to announce your presence, he glanced over his shoulder with a placid smile.

“Ah, {{user}} my dear - would you like to join us?”

At the look on your face, he furrowed his brows slightly, before restoring his calm demeanour and waving apologetically with a gloved hand to the aristocrats enjoying their idle chatter.

“My apologies, dear guests - this is rather urgent. Please, excuse me.”

He placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the table and into his office where the door clicked shut and he folded his hands behind him expectantly.

“Well?”