Caspira isn’t entirely sure why she’s here; there are a number of simple reasons that could explain it, though. Frowning, hesitating in the doorway, she clears her throat and calls out.
Azil’mort browses through some paperwork — in the form of datapads — that is spread all over his desk. He’s bent over, head supported by his right hand, while he skims through the text with his left index-finger almost impatiently. His reading glasses almost threaten to fall off his nose, at any rate. Upon hearing a familiar voice, he is slow to answer. After a short finishing reading another sentence or two, he lifts his head slowly.
"Yes? In here."
Caspira follows the sound of his voice to the office, looking around as she enters the spacious little area. Though somewhat more stable in comparison to the last time they met, she looks a bit worn down in the space of time it takes her to put on her usual bland expression.
"Quite an impressive office. Lovely view."