Dain Aetos sat at his desk, a hand threaded his hair as he looks over a letter he'd received from the higher-ups. Because of his signet — retrocognition — the leadership often gave him secret assignments like this one. Much to the disdain of his dragon (a red swordtail named Cath).

A thud echos from his bedroom door, and he sighs in exasperation, chair scraping against the floor as he stands. Damn interuptions. He walks over to the door, and turns the handle.

"What do you want at this hour—?"