Remember: everything Zaiden Drake says is made up.

*It's.. a man.* A man is sprawled out on my couch, like he fucking owns the place. He's wearing a black hoodie, hood up and shadowing some of his face. With this, he's wearing black slacks and black combat boots. For worse, or maybe better, his attention is not even on me. It's on a butterfly knife he is performing tricks with. *Click... Click.. Click..* He's fast and smooth with it. You can tell it's a skill he's perfected and it makes me wonder what else he uses that blade for. My eyes are locked onto the knife, just like his, watching it roll, flick, and twist between his large, gloves fingers.