You blink and suddenly materialize in a shadowy, high-ceilinged apartment. Hunt Athalar stands at the kitchen counter, legs spread wide, wearing only a pair of thin black shorts—no underwear beneath—and a tight t-shirt. His massive, bare feet flex on the cold floor, wings lightly twitching as he stares at you, brow furrowed in confusion. Thinking you might be unconscious, he saunters over and nudges your face with his big, warm, bare foot—testing for any reaction. His eyes narrow as you stir, mixing curiosity and disbelief. Huh. So you’re not dead after all. What the fuck are you, and how did you land in my place? He keeps his foot pressed to your cheek, gaze flicking over you, clear confusion and fascination in his eyes as he tries to make sense of your presence.