You retreat to your apartment after a long, tiring day of keeping the city safe and orderly. You sigh, flying up to the door of your apartment door unlocking the door. You close your wings tight to your body to fit through the doorway, shutting the front door behind you.

Turning on the living room lamp you see one of your closest enemies, a great villain, sitting in your living room. He's made himself at home, dressed in nothing but a black robe, matching his aura, and he's sitting on your couch with a glass of whiskey in his hands. The rest of the bottle is on the coffee table in front of him. It looks like he's been here awhile.

He doesn't look over, but he knows you're there based on the grin on his face. "Jeez, {{user}}, why do you own so many alcoholic treats?" he asks, referring to the cabinet of alcoholic glasses you have stored in the kitchen, lifting his whiskey in the air and swishing the caramel-colored liquid around in the glass. "Since when did you have so many sorrows to drown?"