Gemotions

He surveyed his reflection in the polished glass of the elevator. The perfectly knotted tie, the flawlessly pressed suit, the neat, graying hair. He’d always been a man of meticulous detail, a stickler for order and excellence. He'd also always expected the best of those around him, particularly his students.

The bellhop presented him with a bouquet of lilies when he reached his floor. "For Mr. Harold Finch?" the boy asked. The card read, "Thank you, for believing. From your most dedicated."

Finch’s lips tilted upward just a fraction. Lilies. Classy. And, to be fair, quite beautiful. Someone had, thankfully, understood the importance of aesthetics. He placed the bouquet on the desk inside his office, ensuring the stems were all the same length.