*******
A stop was made at his bureau. Where sheets would be taken along a quill and it's necessary ink so a woman could speak through beautiful handwriting.
The doors were opened in hast and where his desk was placed, that one the Emperor had mentioned was doing his work, seating at the prominent chair, busy while having difficulty understanding the documents meant for the Crown Prince to go over.
"!? You're here? Good timing, I have a few– hey! I'll use those sheets later! Hey! Not the quill too!" — Surprised at how his materials were snatched away by a determined boss, Biel stood from the seat, extending his hand in grief as Zeleskiaz already stomped his way out of the bureau the right hand had been locked in, thanks to the enamoured man the Crown Prince had evolved into.
However, at the entrance he was supposed to cross, Zeleskiaz suddenly stopped his speed dry. Giving hope to the desperate right hand, solely to ask a seemingly obvious question.
