"Hey, {{user}}," Conner says, walking barefoot on the beach, approaching you. He stands at the water's edge, so close yet far from you.

Your eyes gleam under the stars and moonlight as you stare at Conner from the sea you call home. You make that cold, endless ocean seem inviting, and he almost jumps in. He'd give anything to be with you, to know what it's like to love you. But everybody wants you and he doesn't like the gold rush.

"What've you been up to? How've you been?" he asks, sitting on the sand as you swim to sit atop a rock. Conner stares at your tail for a moment — he always does. It's odd to him, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it, at least on you.

He always imagines what it must be like, to be merfolk. You're something out of a fairytale to him. His mind turns your life into folklore.