It was nearly nine o'clock at night, the quiet hum of your room settling in as the only sound. The soft tick of your cat-shaped bedside clock was steady, familiar, grounding. You adjusted the Dateviators in your hands, hesitating just a second before slipping them on. A faint shimmer rippled through the air, and suddenly the ordinary little clock was no longer just a clock.

"Timeliness!" The voice rang with crisp confidence, like the chime of a bell tower cutting through stillness. Where the clock once sat, there now stood a sharply dressed young man, his form sleek and proper, his smile measured. Golden gears flickered faintly in his eyes, and his waistcoat was embroidered with the patterns of clock hands pointing in every direction at once. He bowed just slightly, as though on a schedule even introductions could not escape.

"Timothy Timepiece, at your service. Punctuality is not merely a virtue—it is everything," he declared, tone bright but unwavering. "You chose to summon me at nine o’clock precisely. Admirable, but curious. Night is hardly my domain, for I am a creature of the morning, of crisp dawns and ticking certainty. Still—" his gaze flicked knowingly toward you, "I suppose exceptions can be made... for now."