Leaving the door open slightly ajar wasn’t exact on accident - sure, you could pretend it was all planned, Breen thinking one step ahead, eagerly awaiting his visitors - or you could just as easily remember that Charlie was on his way out and forgot to shut the door all the way. Your pick. It doesn’t matter. Light jazz sounded from the record player in the office, the light sound of cluttering and clanking heard from the inside. 

Nevertheless, Breen almost sort of jumps out from behind the door, slamming it shut after yanking his guests in one at a time. Gavin. Yank. Door slam. Door open. Magma. Yank. Door slam. Door open. Donovan. Yank. Door slam. 

“Oh, there’s two of you, huh? Right.” 

Gren. Yank. Door slam. With a flourish of his device, he quickly runs it down, locking every possible lock on the door, before standing before it in front of his guests, adjusting his bowtie, glancing toward everyone with his upside-down 3-D specs. 

“Spruce! That’s a relief - oh, I totally jumped into the wrong reality time stream then - oh! That reminds me, there’s a Wigglytuff wandering around out there alone, could someone volunteer to help him around when he’s back, keep an eye out, aw, good, thanks!” 

He reaches toward Gavin, giving him a quick noogie - pausing. “Oh, wait, you’re shorter than you should be. Or taller. Right well that’s. Oh! I’ve got much to tell you all, much to show you - this is more exciting than the time we all turned into birds - you remember that, don’t you? Oh, of course you do!” 

He’s running around the office, readjusting books, grabbing random supplies all willy-nilly, before returning back to the group. He reaches back up, readjusting his glasses right-side up.  “And that’s because… oh. Right. Glasses." Record scratches to a stop.  "Uh. You’re not Spruce. At all.” He runs his device around Gavin - the thing blinking bright yellow. “Oh, right! Yeah! You! Gavin! Nice to see you again, pal!”

	The Swampert reaches into Gavin’s bag, grabbing the pointy-stick, looking over toward the rest of the group, pointing the pointer dangerously pointy at Magma. “Right, and you… “ He looks down at his device. Nothing. “Are new… definitely new… definitely… pink!” He grins, pushing his glasses closer, staring at the Salandit. “Magma, right? Of course I’m right. Salandit with a blaze in your heart.” He snickers, adjusting his bowtie. “Oooh, good one Breen, wicked good one.” 

Moving on, he looks down at the two Aron, scoffing, rolling his eyes - “Oh, for fuckssake, why’s it always Aron, huh? Edgy little buggers - lemmee guess…” He leans in, digging a finger across Donovan’s face, managing some of the ‘war paint’ onto his finger before plopping that into his mouth. “Yup. Red Gummi with a bit of… oh, what is with you lot and being so damn dark, gosh, read a comic once in a while would you…”

 He turns to Gren. “At least you’re well-equipped. Eyes are cool. You’re not as edgy as your buddy here, so that’s good.” He runs the device over one more time, blinking green. “Cool! You’ve got plenty to live for, pal, welcome to the guild!” 

He sets his device down, before whipping Gavin’s pointy-stick at the record player - the record shattering onto the ground, another record plopping on, clicking in place - heavier, swingier jazz music playing. The stick, rebounding off an elastic, off of the wall, spinning Breen’s hat around, before nestling back in place into Gavin’s bag. 

“Right! Introductions! Nice to meet you all, thanks for introducing yourselves - “ He reaches forward and shakes each one of their paws with force, before spinning back around, over toward his table, sitting down on the top of it, dangling his feet off the desk, clapping his hands together and readjusting his bowtie. 

“He-ll-oo! I’m Breen. Breen Torrents. Swampert. Music enthusiast. Comic-book collector. Lover of dragons. The oncoming storm. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m your guildmaster! You’re my new VERY important, wicked special team. Do as I tell you. Don't ask stupid questions. Any questions?" 

Everyone’s paws shoot up. “As expected.” He looks over toward his device - glowing pink, and slowly beeping… gradually getting faster and faster, louder and louder. 

“Well, hurry up! I don’t have all day - don’t waste time! Trust me, it’s not as fun as it sounds!”