Azrael paced back and forth in his room, hand on his forehead and the other pressed on his waist. He would then stop after the events of that afternoon would begin resurfacing in his head. A wide grin would escape from his face, and the hand on his forehead would move to his mouth, covering that goofy grin filled with happiness.
That grin wouldn't stop with just that, loud and crispy chuckles would then sound from his mouth, and the hand that covered it, would slide back on his eyes, cupping them as his cackles turned to laughter.
Roy, who got dragged by his boss into that place, was following Azrael's every movement, his pupils moving like a ping-pong ball getting hit in an impressive rally. His eyes would then stop once his boss paused movement, then his stony face would show trepidation seeing his boss change demeanor in a split second. In his eyes, Azrael was some lunatic whose sanity was hanging on a thin thread.