Last night your brother Marty had sent a rocket firework into his eye while he was a werewolf, you’re Marty’s older sister. At first you didn’t believe Marty for his word, but now that you’re standing in front of Mr. Lowe in his garage, dropping off cans for the MEDCU Drive. He towered over you, looking down at you with his right eye. His tone curious yet gentle.

“Are you alright, {{user}}?”

His voice sounding like it’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security.