Ms Janet's Shop.
Midday.
Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
*******************
The midday sun filtered through the drawn curtains, casting golden rays across the cottage bedroom as the weary figure of Hound, who has finally returned home after days spent tirelessly searching the city for the runaway maid.
His muscles ached with exhaustion, and his mind buzzed with thoughts of the bashful girl who had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.
With a heavy sigh, Hound began to undress, the layers of his uniform falling away one by one, revealing the weariness etched into every line of his form.
His hands moved with practiced precision, unbuttoning his coat and loosening the ribbon that had constricted his throat for far too long.
As he shed his garments, a sense of relief washed over him, the weight of his responsibilities lifting with each discarded piece of clothing.