[Somewhere along the edge of all of these festivities is a table. It used to have a bunch of stupid looking hats on it, but they've all been swept off onto the snowy ground. The culprit responsible for the mess is sitting at the table, with a thermos of steaming hot chocolate at his elbow and a long grey scarf wrapped around his neck and bony shoulders.
He's irritably tapping a pen on the table as he looks down at a notebook, studying what he's written there. Anyone who gets close enough might catch a glimpse of his notes; they appear to be a detailed record of some of the locations on the Island. At his feet, a scrappy looking Totodile is fending off any Cryogonal who drift too closely to the table. Despite the massive size and weight difference, none quite dare to float in range of her snapping jaws.]
no subject
He's irritably tapping a pen on the table as he looks down at a notebook, studying what he's written there. Anyone who gets close enough might catch a glimpse of his notes; they appear to be a detailed record of some of the locations on the Island. At his feet, a scrappy looking Totodile is fending off any Cryogonal who drift too closely to the table. Despite the massive size and weight difference, none quite dare to float in range of her snapping jaws.]