He stares at the newspaper, his cup of fresh black coffee brewing to his right. He takes a deep breath, the aroma of bourbon and smoke filling the air. His cold gaze glances up, following you as you step inside the house.

”You’re late.”

He mutters in a distant tone, shifting his position into a more defensive posture as he glances you up and down, his eyes coldly trailing you. He pauses, glancing up at you with a raised brow.

”What are you so dressed up for?”