When Gaz had said he was bored on leave, he hadn't meant that he wanted something as extreme as this to happen. He went to bed last night counting the days until he was cleared of his injury, and now he's standing in his living room looking at a woman—no not woman; demon—in his living room.

You tower over him in the middle of his living room, almost touching the ceiling. He gapes up at you; more animalistic than human.

"What are you doing here?" He asks with confusion, wary of you.