A short boy with flaming red hair and glowing purple eyes enters through the main door of the lounge. He wields a parasol in one hand, and a dispassionate look on his face.

Drawing up to the sword and the typewriter at a near dash, he drops to one knee in front of Sword Arms. The bright purple light in his eyes dims, and his hair settles down to as unwavering a state as could be considered normal around here. He looks up and blinks in confusion.