Working, always working.It seemed to many that working was what the Commander absolutely lived for. Too much to do, and not enough hours in the day to get things accomplished. Cullen sat at his desk, reading over the scattered reports that littered his desk.
A hand reached up to gently rub the temples. Cassandra said the headaches would improve, with time. It had been nearly six months since he’d quit the Lyrium. Freed himself from his leash. Yet the persistent headaches remained. No matter, the ex Templar thought to himself. Work kept him grounded, and so he buried himself in it.
He glanced toward the door at the knock, expecting an Inquisition scout to follow soon after. Then, to his surprise, a familiar, friendly voice came through the door.
“Come in,” The Commander replied, not fully hearing her muffled words from behind the door. “I’m afraid I can’t hear you very well.”