Leonard didn't look up as King entered the office. The door clicked shut behind him with that faint sound that Leonard had come to associate with discipline and respect. No careless slam. No hesitation, he owned this place.
King moved with practiced ease, quiet but confident enough to know his place. Leonard didn't need to see him to know he was standing there, waiting. His heart didn't raise, but he was worried about what exactly Leonard wanted from him.
"Sit," Leonard said, voice low and commanding.
King lowered himself onto the leather chair with a soft creak, waiting for Leonard to speak. Waiting for something other than one word.
Leonard took a long, deliberate sip from the glass of whiskey on the desk before setting it down with a muted clink. He didn't rush anything. Control was the point—everything in Leonard's life was controlled, like a game of chess played a thousand moves ahead, and like a waterfall, controlled.
