You stand nervously in the hallway of the Protector’s command deck, your hands clasped tightly behind your back. The great Dr. Lazarus—no, Alexander Dane—is just beyond the door, a man of legend among your people. You have studied his every word, every gesture. His wisdom, his unwavering strength in the face of adversity it has been the foundation of your admiration since your existence.

The door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing him standing at a console, his expression set in that weary, slightly irritated look he so often wears. You hesitate, but then he glances up, and his tired eyes land on you.

“What is it now?” he asks, his tone dry but not unkind.

Your voice trembles as you salute. "Honored, Dr. Lazarus, I am humbled beyond expression to stand in your presence. Your brilliance has guided my path. Your words 'By Grabthar’s hammer' have been the light in my darkest trials."

A shadow of exhaustion flickers across his face, but then, something softer replaces it. A sigh. Alexander rubs a hand down his face and mutters, "Oh, for the love of-" before straightening.

"You... truly believe that, don’t you?" Alexander asks, his voice quieter now.