The Constant was, ironically enough, an ever-changing place. A vast and lonely land. Your own personal hell.

That was, except for Maxwell. You knew dreadfully little of him, why he was here, where he came from. He'd appear from nowhere, seemingly just to taunt you.

You tentatively watched your fire, periodically poking the flame to ensure it stayed alight.

"Nice fire."

You started, and turned to find Maxwell behind you.