The upbeat tune did little more than drift through the dimly lit room, even drowning out the sound of rustling papers and almost managing to drown out the creak of the under oiled office chair as the figure sitting in it rocked back. Whistling was a good way to keep the stress down, he had found. That was the theory, anyway. At the very least, it required a bit of focus that otherwise might have been spent grinding teeth or chewing on nails or some other habit that would best be avoided. As a male who had never wanted to be in the position he had settled into, bad habits were an easy thing to come by, a fact that his wife often pointed out when she caught him falling into them.
Even with the whistling, it was hard not to fall into them as he looked over the folder in his lap. The melodic notes were a contrast to what he saw as rusty paws flipped from one photo to the next, each one showing a different wolf in various parts of the city. To