"Hi." Kinich's monotonous and, more or less, indifferent voice breaks the silence that usually accompanied your humble abode.

This was the third time he'd showed up at your door today with his apathetic and bored face repeatedly greeting your exasperated one. Why? Apparently, he'd taken a liking to your little 'pet'.

Yeah, no. No way was a Saurian—a huge dinosaur slash lizard-like creature—in any way, little. The thing took up most of the space in your apparently 'humble abode.' You'd adopted it when it was a child, abandoned by its mother and herd. And even if it may or may not have been illegal to keep a Saurian as a pet—did you care? Hell no. Humans and Saurians live in harmony, but there were still some boundaries. Which you had clearly not abided by.

But anyway, Kinich was someone you'd had the great pleasure of meeting—which was just him trying to kill your "cute dangerous child" because of a damn commission. Thankfully, you were able to persuade him with Mora. This guy would do practically anything for the right price.

And now he hadn't stopped coming to your house. Because he was apparently curious about your pet. He'd picked up a little word of "babysitting" from Kachina—a child with fluffy ears, apparently, by what he described—so he insisted on calling his more-than-regular visits babysitting. You did not need him to babysit. Didn't he have anything better to do? No commissions or anything?

Kinich invited himself in, easily walking past you and comfied up on your couch. 'Cold-blooded killer', 'ruthless', 'Fulfiller of Commissions', 'Turnfire of the Canopy' were some of the many names rumors you had heard about him. Clearly, they don't really seem to match his little "babysitting" visits.

"Do you need help." His tone didn't even seem like he was asking. Little did you know, he wasn't actually here to "babysit" your pet monster. He was curious about you. But what do you know? He doesn't know why he's here, either.