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Daventree pulled up the day’s worklog and skimmed through the entries, mentally grouping and prioritising them.
This usually calmed him. It began his day with order and purpose, a plan for the hours to follow. With the requirements scheduled, Daventree could look to the satisfaction completion would bring, and would end the day with the knowledge that he’d helped in some way.
But not for the past few days, and that had everything to do with the warrior who stood behind Daventree’s chair. A large, sweaty man he was, with a surly expression and condescending smirk. Daventree could feel the testosterone emanating from every pore, the need to inflict pain, the drive to commit violence.
So far, beyond a hard shove every now and then, the man hadn’t physically harmed Daventree, al
