Killian’s pov
Killian stood before the window, a cigarette balanced effortlessly between his fingers. He took a measured drag before exhaling slowly, the smoke drifting lazily into the darkness.
The door to his office burst open, ruining the pieceful moment. Killian didn't bother turning around, he knew who it was because only one person would dare to barge into his office without knocking.
"What do you want Tristan?" Killian asked as he took another long drag from the cigarette.
"Nothing," he said, standing by the wet bar, pouring himself a glass of bourbon.
"You want one," Tristan asked, gesturing to the glass in his hand.
"No," Killian said, stubbing out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray, grinding the smoldering tip into the glass.
Tristan shrugged. "Fine then more for me."
