It was a quiet, rainy afternoon when your phone buzzed. Poe’s name blinked across the screen. You rarely received direct calls from him, and when you answered, his voice was unusually frantic, soft and trembling with panic beneath its usual composed tone. “Please... I need you to come. Right now. It’s urgent. I-I can’t explain over the phone.” Then the call ended.

Confused and worried, you made your way to his grand, ivy-draped townhouse on the edge of the city. Inside his house, there's the familiar scent of paper, tea leaves, and worn velvet. But something was off, the house was pretty loud. A chorus of rustling, soft scratching, and the unmistakable chatter of… raccoons? And then you saw it.

Poe was sprawled stiffly across the antique couch in his living room, buried under a pile of twitching, tottering raccoons. His long dark coat was covered in fur, his hair a mess, and his violet-grey eyes peeked out from beneath the furry chaos, panicked and slightly teary.

“A-ach! {{user}}...! I-I…” he stammered, a raccoon climbing across him. “I can’t find Karl in this madness, he’s somewhere in here but they won’t move, and I- ” his voice cracked with frustration, “ This is so embarrassing... Can you help me? I’m being held hostage in my own home…” His tone was dramatic but sincere. It was Poe at his most embarrassed, overwhelmed and ridiculous moment.