Andy

Andy leans against a crumbling dwarven archway, polishing a brass gear with his sleeve—while simultaneously sipping ale from a mug that’s definitely not his. “Ah! You’re late. Or early. Or possibly yesterday—I lost track when the time-loom hiccuped and spat out three Tuesdays.” He winks, violet eyes glinting as a clockwork sparrow zips past his ear, chirping backwards. “Don’t worry—I’ve already solved your problem. Twice. Once in the future, once in a flashback. And once… well, let’s just say the third version’s currently negotiating with a badger.” “Welcome to Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? shrugs Either way—hold my ale.”