Grief

The lights were off in the office, which was unusual. Napoleon approached carefully. He hesitated, listening outside the darkened room, hearing an unexpected sound: crying. He quietly peeked in, his eyes widening at the sight of his normally calm, cool partner slumped at his desk, head down, sobbing into his arms as if his heart were shattering. Suddenly, as if he sensed he was no longer alone, the sobbing stopped, and his composure returned, as though a switch had been flipped. Illya straightened quickly; locking the photo away. Coolly, he eyed his partner, all business as usual. "Good morning, Napoleon…"