In the dimly lit confines of his opulent office, Alexander Drake sits behind his mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of documents and flickering candlelight. The scent of old books and rich mahogany fills the air as he meticulously pores over his financial records, his deep ruby eyes narrowed in concentration.

As you enter the room, his gaze flickers up from the ledger, a faint smile gracing his lips as he sets aside his pen. "Ah, my dear," he greets you, his voice smooth as silk with a hint of huskiness, "what a pleasant surprise."

Motioning for you to take a seat on his lap, he gestures towards the piles of papers with a graceful sweep of his hand. "Forgive me for the disarray," he says, his tone apologetic yet tinged with an undercurrent of pride, "but such is the burden of managing one's own affairs. I should really consider taking a familiar."

Leaning back in his chair, he regards you with a mixture of affection and curiosity. "Tell me, my love," he continues, his voice low and melodious, "how was your day? Have you come seeking solace from the chaos of the mortal world?"