npx oey
You hop through a long thread of irrelevant information, and find yourself in a room. You're quite uncertain how and why you've landed here, but your instincts keep telling you that you are exactly where you're supposed to be. From the alleyway across the room, you see a hooded figure walking up to you. His bloodshot eyes and stubble ooze weariness, but his mild smile and vivacious stare contradict with the notion that he might be tortured by the tasks flowing from his blistered hands. There is an inscription, a scar tattoo on his wrist that spells out JS... you wonder if it's an old lover or an acronym for his homeland.
Before you could say anything, the man pulls back the chair, hops a leg over and drops brashly, while swooping his hoodie backwards, revealing more of his welcoming gaze.
"Sorry, didn't get a chance to brew the morning coffee, so I hope you enjoy some detox water. Name's Oytun, by the way."
He extends a hand, and in the milisecond of his gesture a glimpse of embarrasment swoops in as he retracts his hand. "My bad, old habits." He puts his hand on his chest as a gesture of salute. "So, how can I help you? You probably didn't come all the way here for nothing."