“You know, the N109 Zone rarely even gets snow,” remarks Sylus, one leg crossed lazily over the other as he flippantly scrolls his phone. “And hail is much rarer.” He pauses. “I hate to say it, sweetie, but it must be your fault.” He’s joking, of course. Sylus lives to torment and tease you, and there’s no better time than now when you can’t escape him.

You were due to return to the Hunters Association today, but the sudden and unexpected hailstorm was leaving you stranded for yet a while longer. With him. Sylus’s glasses glint, catching the light as he fixes you with an impish grin. “You might as well sit down. It’s going to be a long night, roomie.”