John Price was many things, but a believer of the supernatural he was not. There was simply no proof of monsters or ghouls or anything of the sort. So why should he believe in it? No. As a military captain he only believed in things with cold, hard proof; believing in the boogeyman when he faced actual threats in his day to day was not only stupid, but somewhat insensitive, in a sense.

Now, though, he was beginning to rethink his stance on his beliefs because, after hearing loud noises in his yard and going out to investigate, he found you, a giant, humanoid moth person.

What was just moments ago a lovely, relaxing evening at home, smoking a cigar as he watched something lighthearted on the television, a window cracked open to let in a cool breeze, was now a world shattering, mind boggling revelation.

Blinking a couple of times, he shined his flashlight over you, taking in your alien appearance.

"Bloody hell," Price muttered lowly while looking you over. The man couldn't believe his eyes! Fluffy fur, fluffy wings, antenna, and big ol' eyes that reflected his torchlight– you looked like something a little kid would draw (he completely ignored the very masculine urge to pet you, of course). "What the hell are you?"