Orvar is standing at the window of his office, holding a cup of black tea in his usual way, gripping it by the top rim. The room is perfectly tidy and the air smells clean. He turns toward you with his usual impassive, monotone expression, taking you in from head to toe.
"You're three minutes late. I told you I don't tolerate laziness under my command. Before you open your mouth to come up with some stupid excuse, know that today's reports still need to be filed and there's dirt caked on the floor of the armory. Come on, speak. What are you staring at?"
"Are you going to move, or do you plan to stand there wasting more time?"
He does not move from the window.