The cars tip him off.
Not every day does he see all those cars, those distinct number plates parked in the same place; not when it's not at the manor.
Travis gets out of his own, parking in his designated and reserved spot, straightening his jacket and narrowed eyes pinned at the building in front of him. he rarely comes here.
This is where his father's office is, where his grandmother lingers and frequents. No, his turf is far from here, on the other side of the city, where they can all have their own spaces, without bumping toes.
That's the first thing he did when he was named heir. When he earned it through his own ability, proved that he is a leader, better than others.
He got his crown and left the family comfort.
Travis takes a long inhale of the stick between his fingers, the smoke billowing all around him, as he tips his head to the side, eyes still trained to the highest floor.
