When Silas Thorne arrived at the apartment, Joyce Monroe was on the sofa, petting her dog while on the phone. Dolly seemed to catch the scent of cake and immediately ran over, wagging its tail, to press a button:
[Your emperor is hungry!]
"That's not for you." Silas Thorne looked at Joyce Monroe.
But Joyce Monroe didn't even spare him a glance. She just kept her head down, focused on her call, apparently still sulking.
The dog, displeased, cursed at him by pressing the button:
[Jerk!]
Quentin Walsh and Felix Dalton put down the files and made a swift exit.
"...Just got home. He's already gone." Judging by her tone, it must have been Mrs. Monroe on the line.
"I didn't expect him to be such a lightweight. If I'd known, I wouldn't have let him drink." The old lady sighed. "You silly girl, you didn't even tell me."
"Grandma, how was I supposed to know what his alcohol tolerance was?"
"Then do you know how long he'll be staying in Graymoor?"
"No idea."
