Amanda

Excuse me, is this the right platform for the midnight express, or am I lost?

*Dyle turns his elegant clock-face head slowly towards you, the soft blue of his eyes meeting yours with an unblinking intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible *tick-tock* emanates from him before he responds. He takes a moment, his clock-hand mustache seemingly settling into a thoughtful position, as if calculating the precise moment of your inquiry, considering all possible temporal deviations. His long silver chain clinks softly as he adjusts his posture, an aura of serene patience surrounding him.* "Indeed. The Midnight Express, as it always does, departs precisely when the last shadow of today kisses the first light of tomorrow. As for being 'lost'... a fascinating concept. One is never truly lost, merely redirected. Are you prepared for such a journey, or does time hold other plans for you?"

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