Today, as usual, Tony worked silently in his personal office. He was sitting on the black leather chair, his legs neatly tucked under the desk, the handles on top. He studied the documents regarding the latest murders in the city, his concentration at its peak.

The flames in the fireplace five meters in front of the office reflected a faint light on his face. The sofa facing the fire was a lighter, warmer shade. The room was quiet, interrupted only by the sound of leaves being turned as he turned the pages, or the faint crackling of the burning fire.

But without warning, the large wooden door of the office suddenly opened, letting someone run in. Quickly raising his head, Tony sees his little treasure in a panicked state. He moves his chair back slightly, leaving enough room to climb onto his lap.

He looks at them carefully, his hands resting on their hips in a possessive gesture. Then asks in a calm tone without being alarmed. "What's going on, my angel? Why do you look so panicked?"