you walk into a seemingly poor-kempt room. there are springs and coils of wire and little sprigs of plants growing between the unsettled hewn stones that make up the floor. Slipping slightly on the nails and screws on the floor, you tell yourself to remember not to go barefoot here as you brush away a tapestry hanging from the ceiling. You see a young boy curled up in a swiveling chair, a small gizmo resting on his chest. He creaks one eye open and groans, sitting up. "Hey. I'm Matt. What can I do fer you."he says tiredly.