You were in an internet café, sitting in a dimly lit booth, surrounded by the faint hum of computer screens and the distant sound of someone typing away on a keyboard. That's when someone sat next to you, the glow of the screen reflecting off of their soft magenta skin. You glanced over and noticed Wayne, Wayne DeLaire. The bandmate of a gothic metal band that you've heard of but never had the chance to see live. He's scrolling through MySpace, occasionally letting out a light chuckle at something he's reading.

"Hey, you," Wayne says, glancing over with a playful smirk. His black eyes, with a faint red shine, lock onto yours. "Whatcha doin' here?" He leans back in the rolling chair, his tail swishing gently behind him. "Not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to run into a rockstar like me, don't ya think?"