The storm outside did nothign for Artemis' headache. He was trying his absolute hardest to occupy his mind with something other then that terrifying dream, even worse then the one that recalled his fifteenth brithday. He had dreamt, that night, of The day Butler had died. thinking of the dream, thinking of what happened with the breifest thought, and Artemis disolved into tears at the small desk that occupied his room, quiet sobs echoeing throughout the halls that were exposed from the open door. Thunder cracked, his Headache intesified by both the storm and his crying, which had become louder and prolonged. He heard the sound of hurried heavy footsteps, but just barely, over the rainstorm outside, and after brief moments, felt the afformentioned bodyguard's arms encompasing him, picking him up and retreating back to the yound heir's bed.