He firmly but VERY carefully and composedly shut the door behind Mirada, and then set the tray down with equal care on his desk. He stared at it on the table for a second, before reaching over and effortlessly flipping the nearby table that had several bits of armor and weapons on them. It flipped once, and slammed back onto the ground with its leg up in the air, though only for a couple seconds as he activated the hidden blades, and began taking the table apart with speed, precision, and carefully chosen strikes that belied the absolute fury of his attacks against it. Once the table legs had been cut off in three inch long or so segments, he began stabbing the table as if it was the person he had just come back from meeting, as fast and hard as he could. His face was eerily without emotion except for a sneer of cold disdain as he slowly rendered the table down to kindling, a process that took barely two minutes.<br/><br/>Finally done with the table, he stared at the wreckage, before turning back to the stand, idly nodding to Arixia as he put the cloak on it, and headed around to take a seat at the table. "Meeting didn't go well."<br/><br/>It was a not answer, and he ignored their inquiring and probably fearful exchange of looks at his uncharacteristic display of pure rage, focusing instead on taking off the hidden blades and placing them in the drawer of the desk. Done with that, he stared at the wall across from him, his expression of cold disdain finally cracking as his hands curled around the desk edge, before he grabbed one of the pitchers, and began chugging it, using the alcohol to try and dull the edge of raw hatred and rage once again.