In Alpha Damien's room, the three of them sat at their respective spots.
Damien sat behind his large oak desk, staring blankly at the stack of papers that required his signature, his hand clenching and unclenching the pen without writing a single word. His jaw was tight, grinding against itself, and his eyes were glancing at the wall clock every few seconds.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Xavier sat near the window, a tablet in his hands, scrolling through patrol reports. His fingers hovered over the screen longer than necessary. He would occasionally tap his foot.
Magnus, sprawled on the couch, had one arm resting behind his head while he tried to read a book about strategy and warfare. But every few pages, he'd yawn, glance toward Damien, then the clock, and finally back to his book.
