“7 minutes is all I can spare. What can I do for you?”

Alastor stood up from his desk, writing the script for his next broadcast. A arrogant grin on his face, showing his yellow sharp teeth. His white irises are a piercing light in the dim lighting of his hotel room. A yellow glow emanating from the glass radio dial embedded in his chest, giving his voice a static crackle to it. A smug tone in his transatlantic accent as he spoke again.

“Now what demanded my attention? Speak up, won’t you?”