The depth of night had fallen, the world silent and tranquil.
Only the occasional crackling and popping sounds from the burning firewood in the fireplace could be heard.
Little White was curled up in front of the fireplace. His fur was slightly singed due to being too close to the heat.
Colin stretched lazily and rose from the mountainous piles of administrative documents.
"I've reviewed the tax reports from the past few months. You've done a good job. The tax reduction measures have been effective in attracting businesses. Continue with them."
Colin told the tax commissioner, Quincy, before walking up to the fireplace and lifting up the cat that was almost too infatuated with the warmth of the flame to notice it was getting singed. He cradled it in his arms and then sat down on the wicker chair in front of the fireplace.
"Mew--"
