Octavian looked tired when he came back to the room.
He always did.
Whatever it was he was doing in the investigation, he was putting all his effort and heat into it - to protect her and Nevremia.
It wasn't his fault that his efforts were like trying to push a bus on ice because part of the investigation - the leader of it, arguably, if not for Luther - was the guilty party.
As soon as he stepped inside the room, he leaned against the door and drew in a breath, pulling his cravat free of his throat as he moved to walk deeper in.
The moment he caught sight of her, the man stilled.
The tiredness in his expression faded away somewhat into a smile.
There was the usual relief and happiness she always saw on his face whenever he came back to the room and saw her, and there was still the fatigue, the strain, and the sadness that grew on his face every day he made no progress.
