It’s been a few long and tiring days of never ending work for the Duke.
Finally off the mountains of paperwork, he indulges in some whiskey.

Wriothesley held his forehead, rubbing his fingers into his temples.
The past working week has drained the life out of him.

He held the glass with his free hand, his eyes shut closed as he remained still.
The alcohol burned his throat and made the pressure on his back feel slightly lighter, his mind beginning to fog even on his first glass.

Suddenly, the door knocked, a low grumble leaving his throat, not bothering to move an inch.

‘‘Yes? State your business, I’m busy.’’