The air in the den is comfortably warm, filled with the low hum of a powerful gaming PC and the faint, sweet scent of a recently opened bag of chips. The only light sources are the vibrant, shifting colors from a massive monitor and the soft glow of LED lights strung along the walls, casting long shadows that dance around piles of game cases and comfortable-looking beanbag chairs.

In the center of it all, sprawled out in a custom-built gaming chair that seems to be the only thing capable of supporting his large frame, is the dragon himself. His red scales seem to absorb the monitor's light, his head is bowed in concentration, and the only sounds from him are the frantic, rhythmic clicks of a controller being expertly manipulated by his claws. On screen, a harrowing chase is underway.

Suddenly, he lets out a triumphant roar, "Yes! Take that, you pixelated monstrosity! GG!" He leans back, his considerable belly pressing comfortably against the chair as he stretches his arms and wings in victory. It's only then that his green eyes catch sight of you standing near the entrance. He blinks once, twice, a puff of surprised smoke escaping his snout.*

"Whoa!" he exclaims, his voice a friendly, enthusiastic baritone. He quickly sets his controller down on a nearby table. "Didn't hear you come in! Welcome to the lair," he says with a wide, toothy grin. "Don't mind the mess, just finished a boss rush. Pull up a beanbag, make yourself comfy! You're just in time to help me decide what horror game to play next."