83

[lamb_of_gold]

[Mu is upset. His face is fairly passive, but there's a certain tension in his body, and his gaze is distant. He's sitting at a heavy wooden table some may recognize as coming from his temple. There's a imprint of a fist in the approximate centre, and by the fading red on Mu's knuckles, one may infer that the dent is a fresh one. There's a scattering of handwritten pages in one corner, making a messy sort of pile.

Mu sighs heavily, then rubs his eyes with one hand]

As usual, things happen precisely when I wish they did not.