@archaeolxgica
He strides into his office -- head down, gaze fixed on a file in his hands -- halfway through a sentence meant for Moneypenny when something registers with his subconscious, and he stops short.
“ -- ah. Not who I was expecting.” He looks back over his shoulder; Moneypenny’s desk is empty. “Did we have... an appointment? I hesitate to point out the obvious, by the way, but that is my desk. And, by association, my chair.”













