The soft clink-clink of his leather boots against the polished marble floor could be heard as Samxon made his way to his office, his face tight with irritation, probably because of the figure trailing straight behind him.
The man held a tablet close to his chest. He had disheveled curly hair, glasses covering his eyes, and a sore mole sticking out by the side of his nose.
"Sir Samxon," the man, Larry, began, reading from the tablet. "Members of the bureau are slowly gathering a force to stand up against you. The people are buying their idea. They believe you haven't been doing any work since you took up this position. I think you should start playing closer attention to what the civilians need. At least that will make them see you as a more competent leader."
Larry jolted back, startled, as his nose slammed into the back of Samxon, who had just come to an abrupt stop. He quickly took several steps back, maintaining a safe distance with a wry smile.
