The room where Roier had been standing pressed against the desk was dimly lit, with the faint glow of a single hanging bulb swinging slightly. The desk itself was cluttered with papers and miscellaneous items, hinting at a disorganized environment. Roier's expression was a pout; a mix of frustration and exhaustion evident in his furrowed brow and slightly clenched fists.

Beside him stood an egg, who he seemed to be rambling to. "Hey, ¿sabes qué? Estoy harto de esta isla. You know, la gente de aquí es tan pinche rara." Roier crossed his arms with a huff.