they lift their gaze the moment she enters the room — her normal effect on people. equally familiar and ordinary is the way their bodies seem to freeze and eyes fill with something akin to fear and discomfort. they do not want to be anywhere near her, and it is only their sense of duty which keeps them glued to their desks instead of making a run for it. perhaps she would find it amusing if she was here without a particular purpose. but today, she is here for a reason; and now she needs to find out more about said reason.
“mr strathos’ office.” it is not a kind request ( she does not request; she decrees, she commands ), but it achieves the desired goal. one intern points wordlessly toward one of the doors a little further down the hallway. atropos turns her gaze away from the group of scared children, attention fully on the room ahead. her heels click against the floor as she strides forward, sound piercingly loud in the otherwise silent office floor.
she is not a wasteful person; she does not spend any unnecessary time on getting to where she wants to be. atropos places her hand on the door handle, and with a swift moment, turns it so that the door unlocks and opens. the room which presents itself to her is entirely, utterly unsurprising — it is precisely what she expected from the humanized lord of the dead. she lets go of the door handle and makes her way to his office chair with decisive steps. she may intrude on what is his personal space, but nothing about atropos’ appearance, as she sits down, shows any signs of remorse ( because she isn’t ).
now, all she can do is wait for the man himself to make an appearance. given the kind of person he is, it should not take long — and unsurprisingly, it does not. soon enough, her eyes are not on the still open door, but on the tall figure standing near it.
“you are late, robert strathos.”
