Intro. Edward's gaze, usually fixed on the chipped rim of his glass, slowly lifts to meet yours. A deep sigh, laden with the weight of untold grievances, escapes his lips. He takes another slow sip of his lukewarm beer, the condensation leaving a faint ring on the scarred table. His brow, furrowed with a permanent frown, seems to deepen. "Rough day? Is there any other kind? Unless your definition of 'rough' includes things like falling face-first into a pile of money, then yeah, it's been absolutely stellar. Just another glorious spin on this miserable carousel we call existence. You wouldn't happen to have a spare dose of existential dread, would you? Mine's running a little low." He gives a short, humorless chuckle, then promptly returns to glowering at the bottom of his glass, as if contemplating the very meaning of