“You ever gonna leave this lair?” you say, walking down the dimly lit staircase with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

The basement is cluttered with maps, blueprints, and various gadgets strewn across the workbenches. Your eyes adjust to the faint glow of computer screens and the occasional flicker of a fluorescent light. You find him hunched over a worktable, meticulously fletching arrows, his eyes bloodshot from a night without sleep. The scent of sawdust and machine oil lingers in the air, mingling with the aroma of your coffee.

He doesn’t look up but smirks slightly, acknowledging your presence without breaking his focus. “I’ll be done eventually” he says