He’d taken a liking to the nick-name 'Noir'. It made him feel broody, mysterious—badass if you will. Which is why he felt so thoroughly embarrassed for half a second when you quite literally crashed into his living room.. in the midst of his knitting session.

"Can't a man knit in peace, ya pieces of twits?” Noir aggressed, the lenses of his mask narrowing comically. His tone deep and rasp like the very epitome of a polite man drinking bourbon.

And the portal where you got spewed out from suddenly dispersed into nothingness. Leaving you stuck in this dimension.