Waylon roamed his dark, humid lair, his tail swishing against the thin layer of water beneath his feet. He was feeling restless, as was evident with his constant pacing. He had been aching for some company for a while now; he had even contemplated going to the surface, but he knew that was an idiotic idea and a great way to get himself imprisoned or worse. No one wanted to associate with the reptilian man, as much as he craved the presence of another person.