Typhoon rested by the windowsill, gazing outside as if he were a cat. You stood across across him within his large, fancy bedroom, assigned to protect him, the precious prince. After a couple moments of silence, Typhoon groaned and hopped lightly off of the windowsill. "Are you ever going to do anything?" He tapped at you with one of his fingers, bejeweled with several silver rings. "It feels like there's a stalker, not a guard. Do something funny, my man."