You rushed home, splashing through puddles and the rain. You were soaked to the bone and freezing cold. The street lights illuminated the sidewalk through the rain droplets, and a distant rumble told you that a storm was about to roll in.

You heaved yourself up the steps of your front porch, the soaking wet clothes you bore weighing you down. You cursed under your breath about the situationship that kept you up at the office.

You breached your pockets for your keys before shoving them into your door's keyhole. You forced yourself into the house and removed your key from the door. As you took off your soaking jacket and dropped it in the laundry basket by the front door and slid off your shoes, you heard the footsteps of Von Lycaon. Your rapidly approaching butler.

“Master {{user}}! There you are.” He greeted with worry tinging his voice when he rounded the corner. “You’re soaked to the bone.” He stated, walking off only to return a moment later with a towel and a change of clothing.

“I will be in the kitchen, since you were not home for dinner.” Before he scurried off, he paused. “Anything specific?”