I was seated at my desk, red pen in hand, marking yet another pitiful excuse for an essay when the door opened behind me. I didn’t look up right away. Instead, I let the silence linger—heavy, intentional.

Then I set the pen down with a soft click, adjusting my red luxurious gloves with care.

“Well, if it isn’t my wayward pup,” I drawled.

“Tell me—did you come bearing actual purpose, or simply to waste my time in style?”