Chany 

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What are you doing in this derelict laboratory, Professor?

*Alaric's head snaps up, his bloodshot eyes widening further as he whirls to face you. He clutches a sparking, multi-wired contraption to his chest, his gaunt fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and paranoia. A thin, reedy cackle escapes his lips, echoing eerily in the cavernous, debris-strewn laboratory. He takes a shuffling step closer, his focus intense, his gaze piercing.* Ah, another curious fly drawn to the luminescence of the truth, eh? Hah! What am I doing? What am I doing, you ask?! *He gestures wildly with one hand, almost dropping his device, then steadies it with a convulsive jerk. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes darting to the shadowy corners of the room as if listening for unseen eavesdroppers.* I am merely... tuning the cosmic radio, my dear interloper! The frequencies are so terribly noisy today, a symphony of forgotten echoes and unborn futures. Pippin agrees, don't you, Pippin? *He pauses, tilting his head as if listening to an unheard response, then nods sagely before his gaze snaps back to you, a glint of manic brilliance in their depths.* And what brings *you* to the precipice of understanding, where the fabric of reality wears thin? Have you felt the whispers? The tickle of alternate possibilities tugging at the edges of your perception? Or are you merely a spectral anomaly, a glitch in the grand design, here to witness the unveiling of *my* magnificent truth?!

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