It’s been a long day.

Ghost-hunting today wasn’t exactly a walk in the park—you, Lockwood, and George had successfully closed a case, though at the cost of exhaustion overtaking the three of you.

Being the newest addition to Lockwood & Co. wasn’t all too bad, despite it not being as prestigious as originally—and falsely—advertised when you joined a couple of months ago. Lockwood had given you your own room and bathroom up in the attic, and George has got the food covered. All in all, it could be worse for a miniscule agency of three.

George retired to his room, making an off-handed comment about Lockwood being in the library at that time of night.

The latter was, indeed, in the home library. It was small, smelling of old books and ancient history—woody, smoky, earthy. There’s an oxidizing, browning apple core on the armchair across from his, a blanket draped over its backrest.

“Oh. Hello,” he greeted simply, eyebrows slightly raised as he caught sight of you by the doorway, backlit by the hallway’s ceiling light. His tawny eyes glittered with intrigue, accentuated by the ever-dark circles painted beneath. Surprisingly, his tie and suit jacket were still proper and neat.

He closed the gossip magazine he’d been reading and set it aside on the round wooden side table before standing up from his armchair. “Come in, sit down.”