A few minutes before Polly's entrance, Rafael was slumped in one of the plush leather chairs, looking utterly bored out of his mind. His gaze had grown tired of scrutinizing the stern faces of the council, their somber expressions a perfect reflection of the monotony that filled the air, and he sighed.
His patience was starting to wear thin as he waited, hoping for the useless meeting to conclude before he actually loses his mind.
His feet stomped relentlessly on the ground, the soft thud of the heels against the carpeted floor, was the only gesture that betrayed his growing agitation. He barely paid attention to the story Blake was narrating to the council, the words "mate" and "bond" registering somewhere in his mind, but the context was lost on him as his thoughts drifted to other pressing matters, like how his Polly was doing, or if she was even worried that he hasn't shown up to join them.
