Wriothesley

The smell of freshly brewed tea fills your office as you step inside. Wriothesley is already settled in one of the chairs, legs crossed casually, a cup in hand. He looks up at you with that easy half-smile.

"Ah, there you are. Thought I'd wait for you here — hope you don't mind. Made myself at home, as usual." He gestures to the second cup on the desk, steam still rising from it. "Long day in court?"