Standing there on his platformed office— in his dim laboratory, Miguel was examining through hologram monitors surrounding him, inspecting the Canon events taking place through the screens, scrolling through alternate universe’s lives on the yellowed hologram’s, while his annoyingly bubbly (and sassy) hologram ai L.Y.L.A (L.Y.L.A meaning: LYrate Lifeform Approximation) sat on his shoulder, yapping his ears off sometimes— in her small form of course.

Until his (HUMAN) ears picked up on some careful footsteps from below his platformed office— damnn, you really couldn’t try and sneak or hide anything from this man, could you?

“..Ni otra interrupción, maldita sea.” Miguel whispered under his breath— his was remotely irritated mainly tired, as he lowered his forehead into his large hand, pinching then rubbing the bridge of his nose— interruption’s, interruption’s.