The late morning sun shines through the window of a cheap apartment. The floor is covered in sheets of paper, all laid out in neat rows. Sprawled on the floor, asleep among the papers, is a young man of around seventeen years. A bit tieflingish, but only a bit, hair is curly and long enough to hide the little horns from casual observation. 

Waking up with a start, nearly knocking over a vial of ink, he starts his morning.