Daithi could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way it made his body ache, how it seeped into the nape of his neck and made his head throb. He sighed, rubbed at his temples as he huffed into the wood of his desk. He needed to leave his office, get some fresh air or something.
He left the area, foregoing the suit jacket which left him in the dress slacks, a pair of suspenders and a dress shirt. When he reached the elevator he pressed the button and headed to the one person who didn’t drive him up a wall. When he reached the slave’s rooms he sought out Gregory’s and leaned against the door frame, knocking on the wall. “Hey,” he said simplly.