As if he needed a clock to tell him it was morning, with the sunlight piercing through his windows and heating his back and wings. He gave the book he was reading, The Times and Trials of Roam, one last look before closing it and chucking the paper waste onto the pile of useless books. It was far too early to feel this frustrated just from two useless books, but even then, he knew damn well they weren't the real reason why he was feeling like this. 