He's usually the one telling me 'York no, York don't, York that's a bad goddamn idea.' and trying to reign me and Linds in. Keep us from doing something stupid. You know, team dad.

[ York flies in an idle spiral, large and lazy, circling Gabe on the Y axis as they make their way along. Forest gives way to grassland and the ripple in the air is palpable- the chill and overcast skies promising some kind of storm on the horizon a sharp change from the comfortable ease of Gabe's habitat.

Sloping hills that are low and easy cut through with a winding road that goes up from a Small little bar to a Ranch Style house- hewn wood and large windows. ]