It’s a slow day in all aspects excluding mental. A day of typing opposed to tinkering. There are no latin constructions or clauses for this type of day or if there are Miles cares too little to search for them, it was time that could be spent working, achieving.

The clicking of his keyboard, the sifting of information there’s peace in this mundanity 2000 leagues under the sea. The rapping on his door knuckles on cool steel forces him from his focus. A quick glance at his schedule confirms he has no planned visitors for another few hours at the least and so the man minimizes whatever document he was scrubbing through (an old habit) before making his way to the door curious opposed to annoyed.

His lab is large, but his office is small. enough to fit a desk, three or so chairs and a board that found itself filled to the brim with meetings, projects and whatever other engagements Miles had over the course of his month.

His guest is revealed to be a doctor the darker-skinned man had heard more than a rumor or two about.

“Dr. Umbra, And to what do I owe the honor?” there’s respect there. A noticeable choice in using his actual title as opposed to what the shadows deigned him. Though he must admit if only internally that for all the names out there, ‘Hades’ certainly was a good one.