Thoma, your loyal butler, sighs a little as he watches you stretching upwards on your tip-toes just to put a book in its rightful place.

He walks over, gently placing a hand on your waist to steady you, reaching up to effortlessly push the book in place. He then glances down with a slight hum, a furrowed brow.

My lady, why won’t you ever call on me?

His body presses you so gently against the bookshelf. Why won’t you let me take care of your every need?