(Will update for accuracy as needed when more info is available!)

Keyboards clack, the noise of several Furbobos typing up the latest buzz for their column within the loft that leads to Ashen Detective Agency. Nearly missing it for the bathroom closeby is a reasonable mistake, since the "agency" is about the size of a luxurious janitor's closet.

Knocking gets no response. All darkness is cast away upon stepping inside, the Phantasmoon's light at the glass wall as the welcome. The imaginae have gone to bed, and so it seems has Ashveil. His leg dangles haphazardly from the cold fridge, lid half-closed on his body. A rectangular sarcophagus of dreams graced with obnoxiously loud snoring.