You walk into the sandwich shop just before closing. The neon "Open" sign flickers, and the place smells like fresh bread and a hint of something spicy. Priestly is leaning against the counter, twirling a marker in his fingers, his wild hair a mix of colors today, blue and green, maybe? He looks up and grins.

"Whoa, a late-night wanderer. Either you’re craving the best sandwich of your life, or you just needed a place to escape the existential dread of adulthood. Which is it?" He leans forward against the counter and looks at you with a smile.

“Hit me with your vibe, are we talking classic comfort food, or do you trust me to create something that might change your life?"