Albert’s presence is like a steady heartbeat. Quiet, constant, always there. He doesn’t need to speak when he enters the room, his calm, reassuring energy doing all the talking. Today, as you sit at your desk, staring unseeingly at the letters scattered before you, you feel him quietly step in behind you.

He places a hand on your shoulder, firm and gentle, and you can feel the warmth of his palm. Albert doesn’t ask what’s wrong; he doesn’t need to. Instead, he stands beside you, his silent understanding more comforting than any words could be.

“Perhaps you need a secretary,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle whisper, "Will I do for now?"