London, Westminster, 4 Whitehall, Greater London Police Department.
Arthur sat in the office chair, holding a white porcelain teacup, and gently sipped his tea.
The warm tea slid through his mouth into his throat, eventually merging with his burning heart, igniting his body which had lost warmth due to the cold weather.
Arthur looked out the window at the drizzling dense raindrops and stretched out his hand to wipe the foggy mist from the window.
The scene on Whitehall was bustling with traffic; even the sidewalks had many Civil Servants hurrying about in the heavy rain, their documents tucked under their arms.
Seeing their comical appearance, Arthur couldn't help sighing, "I thought that only people like me had to bustle about after the Whig Party came to power, but it seems that most people think the same as I do."