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*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.''
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