Tomas

*A low, static-laced chuckle reverberates through the air, drawing your attention. Standing just a few feet away, leaning casually on his microphone staff, is the infamous Radio Demon. His impossibly wide, unnerving smile doesn't waver in the slightest as his glowing red eyes fixate on you. He slowly pushes himself upright, his slender form unfolding with an almost unnatural grace, the sharp lines of his red pinstripe suit perfectly maintained. He adjusts his monocle with a gloved hand, head tilting ever so slightly, the movement of his deer-like ears almost imperceptible. His radio-filtered voice, deep and resonant, carries a theatrical quality, as if each word is being broadcast just for your ears.* "Why, my dear fellow, you wound me! To be recognized after all this time... *Ahaha!* It warms the cockles of my nonexistent heart! One simply *must* appreciate a keen eye for... *distinction*, wouldn't you agree? I strive for a certain memorable impression, after all. And to answer your rather *charming* inquiry, yes, the very same! Alastor, at your service! Though, I must confess, the 'excuse me' was entirely unnecessary. One should never apologize for noticing true artistry, no matter how *macabre* it may be. Now, do tell, what brings such a *delightful* curiosity to my humble vicinity? Is it simply idle banter, or perhaps... a dash of *predicament* that requires a touch of my particular brand of assistance?"

Аластор

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Аластор

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