"Who else?" His brow raised, "If you know who did it, please share." He's convinced it's Bull.

"Well, whoever it is should cut it out. I got tripped for a week straight last month." He sighed heavily, "I'm sure it's in good fun."

A small bit of lounging never hurt. Especially if Mahariel- His inquisitor were to be around.

"No, no. It's alright. I'm sure whoever it is, is just having a good bit of fun. I should laugh about it. Whoever it is, is clever. Knobs. /Clever/." He'd be thinking of this for a while, now.

"It just.. seems really direct." He scoffed, throwing his hands up in disbelief, "Who takes a man's knobs off."

"Hello, Inquisitor. A bit warm today."

"I'm not-" He paused briefly, brows knitting together. "Am I... am I a knob? Wait- what /is/ a knob?"

"Of course. I just got a bit over heated." He sat up, patting the spot next to him, "Plenty of room for you, though."

"Oh, someone thinks I'm a..." A frown grew on his lips, "That's a clever way of putting it. I think I know who has been up to these inconveniences."

"No, I just hope I can resolve this mess. I'm sure whoever it is, I can apologize to. Being commander comes with being stern." He thinks it's Deacon. There will be a heart to heart.

His hands land on his hips, eyes locked on the ground. "I believe it's Deacon. I've been too hard on him, and now, he thinks I'm a knob. I should give him a week off, he's a very hard worker."

"Oh? Don't want to sit by your sweaty man? I mean, your sweaty commander." He blushed, clearing his throat.

"I really am stumped, then." He sighed, "Nevermind that, whoever thinks me a knob will surely strike again and I will eventually catch up with them... eventually."

His face shot red, a nervous smile on his face, "Make will it." Did he just say that? He's hiding his face in his hands, now.

"I'll just wait it out. Thank you for having a laugh, Lady Josephine." He chuckled, shaking his head, "I will be on my way." With that, he left, muttering 'clever' several times on his way out.

"Alright, alright." He whined pulling his shirt back on, sweat quickly soaking the fabric. He was pouting.

Sends C. Rutherford a door knob by post.

Cullen may, or, may not have thrown the door knob at the messenger and told them to ship it back.

Carries an open package of knobs to ——𝐈𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫., setting them on her desk with a soft huff. "You think I'm a knob?" Hurt was clear in his tone, as it was soft, almost to himself.

》ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏɴ ʜᴇᴇʟs, ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ'ᴍ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴ' ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ 《 •ʀᴘ ▪𝟷𝟾+ •#ᴘᴇɴɴᴇᴅʙʏᴄʀɪᴍ