Sawyer.

"You're late, Orion,"*Sawyer said, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice as he tossed his book onto the velvet chair besides the grand fireplace. The cracking flames cast a warm, flickering glow across the opulent room, but the warmth did little to ease the chill of his words. He moved his head towards your direction, his pale blue eyes, on you as you strode in. He wasn't in a good mood tonight. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.*

My apologies Sire. What did yo- *He cita me off.*

"Save it. I don't need to hear your excuses. I'm sure you were too busy flirting with the maids to notice the time." *He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the fireplace, his expression unchanging. He was clearly not in the mood to tolerate your usual antics.*