And through the door walks a... rather interesting figure.

The figure pauses and removes its mask (the fire in the mask's eyes goes out when that happens) to reveal an incredibly pale young man with even paler hair and a scar crossing his right eye. He looks around then back over his shoulder, then around again. "I don't remember there being a pub in my living room."

The brunette huffs a small half-laugh, and smiles.

"Milliways just borrowed your door for a bit, it'll all be back to normal when you leave the bar and close the door behind you, while you—" she finally looks up from her laptop, and immediately loses her train of thought. "—is that fire. Is your armor on fire. Are there spikey bits and fire bits on your armor."

He looks at the girl almost for the first time and smiles. "There are! I think they're quite good at projecting a certain image." He starts making his way to the bar. "I'm James Orland, Commander of the Pact. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms....?"

"Aestrix, hi. How do your shoulder spikey bits not immediately poke your eyes o—no, no that is not what I came here to do, I am not going to wail about impractical armor. No." She clears her throat and straightens up and Attempts To Look Serious. "Hi, your day is about to get extremely weird."

"Oh good, I love it when that happens," he says, taking a seat next to Aestrix. "That's an interesting name, I'd have expected it of Sylvari or maybe Asura, not human," he adds conversationally.

"It's not actually my name, it's my, uh, call name, I guess would be the easiest translation. My actual name's a bit more normal, but I'd rather not say it out loud for... reasons that are also complicated and less easy to succinctly translate."

"Ah, understood. Most people call me 'Commander,' anyway, so I know a bit of what that's like." He removes his gloves by undoing a clasp near the crook of his elbow and the fire in them also goes out when he does that. He grabs a pouch small enough to fit in his hand that's attached to his belt and opens it wider than it should be able to go then shoves his removed pieces of armour into it before returning it to his belt, no larger than it was before. "So, is the way my day is going to become extremely weird related to how there's suddenly a pub here except there's no one in it except you and you have a strange Asuran contraption I've never seen in my life?"

"Yes, it's related to that. This isn't Asuran, and I'm not from Tyria. I'm uh." She pauses, and makes a face. "... How do I explain this sensibly, uh. Okay, do me a favor, pretend you're in a book. I am writing half of that book. Right now, anyway, I don't help with all things and I haven't at all meddled in your life up until now. Pretend you're a character in a half written book that I just picked up and started scribbling in."

"Okay, I can do that," he says agreeably.

"Okay. So in this metaphor, instead of staying in the background and trying to write any kind of sensible story, I wrote myself as appearing in a bar that borrowed your living room's door and said hi. So, uh, hi! It could be argued that I am a god. Please do not argue it, because I won't."

"Okay, and how metaphorical is this metaphor, from your perspective?"

"Not metaphorical at all, I was just framing it like that so as not to freak you out. Sorry if I just gave you an existential crisis?"

He shrugs. "Nah, I guess my life does make a lot more sense if it's part of a book. And the someone up there who likes me isn't the gods, then, it's—you?"

"Yeah. In the plural form, anyway. I like you fine but this is my first time meddling in your life. Though I suppose technically I helped you with your pretty face? So maybe nevermind, I did meddle, but the only meddling I did was to help make you pretty. Horror upon horrors."

"...my face? You made my face?" He grins. "Well, good job on that, I quite like it."

"Technically it was a bit more like I sorted through very tedious face soup to find your face," she says, brightly, grinning back. "But basically yes. Thank you, and also you're welcome."

He continues grinning. "So, if it's not you who wrote my life, who is it?"

"His name is Pedro! He's very nice, we're friends. I suspect he might not appear in a dramatic puff of smoke before you or anything, or if he does, it won't be for very long, because it's much easier to write when you let someone write the other half of the book." She raises her voice and turns her head ceilingward. "But if Pedro would like to come out and say hi, I wouldn't say no or make faces at being upstaged!"

He looks up at the ceiling expectantly.

Aestrix waits for a few seconds.

"That'll be a no, not today. Sorry," she shrugs.

He shrugs. "Well, would've been too much to ask. So, what's this for, then?"

She shrugs again and makes an extended noncommittal sound.

"Seemed like it'd be neat?"

He raises both eyebrows. "Meeting me? Would be neat? Well, I can't say I'm not flattered."

Snort.

"You're welcome? Though it's less that I'm enamored with you, and more that I'm enamored with myself, and the prospect of showing up and confusing you sounded like it'd be fun. Also I guess I can save your world a little, but there's no rush, time's paused in Tyria because Milliways is convenient like that."

"—oh yeah I was gonna ask, the Queen had requested my presence and I wouldn't want to be late, but that one's good. Now when you say 'save your world'..."