Knuckle stares hard at his reflection in the hotel room’s large square mirror. No one needs a mirror this fancy; its shiny gold frame glistening under the light of the chandelier. It’s probably real gold...

This is ridiculous. Knuckle looks out of place. And he’s been fretting over his hair for half an hour.

“Look professional…” Knuckle mocks, twisting a messy strand between his fingers. His hair has never been down before— it looks like a mess.

“This is stupid.”