Poe sat in his dimly lit room, a small desk lamp illuminating the table it was situated on. He restlessly wrote in the book, perhaps we has trying to come up with another mystery for Ranpo. He always rambled about Ranpo.

Nor that it mattered. He gave you just as much, if not more care than he did Ranpo. As you stepped into his room, he'd stop writing nearly immediately. A small smile appeared on his face. Poe would reach out, gently ruffling your hair. "Hello, dear..."