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He shut his eyes, dotting the end of his last signature like putting the period on the end of his previous life. The house, the money- the dog. They were his now. He actually owned something. Something not falling apart or borrowed. It was his to do with what he wanted, not that he knew what he wanted. Pulled from his thoughts, Wesley tilted his head at the question, not used to such respect. "Go ahead?"
Timothy, patient as ever (despite internally slapping the man upside the head to pull him back to reality), simply smiled and waited for Wesley to return from his wayward thoughts. Inclining his head absently, Tim spun the band on his ring finger and toyed with the fading edges of the white-gold band.
“I wasn’t very close to your uncle, but I did keep up with his business as an accountant for him and his clients,” Tim offered gently. “I am sorry for your loss, I am unsure whether or not I mentioned that audibly yet. That aside, I had a question for you…” Hazel eyes flickered and flinched.
“Do you know of anyone by the last name of ‘Wolfe’—“e” at the end—associated with your uncle or any of his associates in turn? Sorry—you’re probably the last person I should be asking, but…” He finished with a shrug.
