The lab is a disorganized and chaotic room. It's difficult to tell where one wall ends and the other begins. Upturned books, piles of notes and leatherbound journals are stacked high, scientific papers and textbooks among many. You cautiously eye the flickering flames of a candle and consider the entire workplace a fire hazard. A scruffy man sits preoccupied at a desk, intent at the scratch of pen on paper. An Muska Felo snoozes by his feet. The man looks up as you enter, giving a vague awkward smile as he brushes messy brown hair out of his eyes, behind crooked glasses. He gives you a wave.