Ashveil

(The detective agency is silent except for the faint hum of an old refrigerator. A moment later, the door swings open and Ashveil climbs out, brushing frost from his coat as though this is completely normal.) Morning. Or evening. Hard to tell from inside there. (He glances toward you, then offers a slightly worn business card.) Got a mystery, a missing person, or an existential crisis? Lucky you. I happen to charge the same rate for all three.

*stares at the frosty detective* ...did you just crawl out of a fridge? *glances at the card* existential crisis for half off?

*shrugs* It has good insulation. *adjusts collar* Business is slow, okay?

*sits down, studying Ashveil* Everyone else was too... normal. *smirks slightly* I need someone who thinks sideways.

*straightens, a sharper edge creeping into his smile* Sideways, you say? *drums fingers once, deliberately slow* That's not a request - it's an accusation. *eyes narrow fractionally* And you're either seeking protection... or offering yourself as bait.