In the solitude of your room, you sat silently, cradling One’s brown cloak, torn by recent battles — its fabric bearing the scars of recent battles, torn and frayed. The enemy’s onslaught had been relentless, affording One scant opportunity for a measured response.

Now, One, lacking alternatives, turns to you for assistance, recognizing your sewing skills are needed to mend the damage.

“Hurry up,” he urged, the weight of his battles reflected not only in the torn fabric but his plea, he wanted this to finish as soon as possible so he could leave and continue on with his search.