In truth, Sam felt that since Old Max seemed to appear everywhere he went, they might as well get married—rather than following those romantic novel tropes where the leads constantly bump into each other by chance.
Sam's feelings branched out; his shoulders tightened as a shiver ran through him. He fixed them with a gaze that looked directly into one's foolish soul. If he had learned one thing from the "Void" other than psychological trauma, it was this: never trust the elderly, no matter what. Behind every pale, aged face, there is an ancient entity lurking.
As the five reached Sam, the two from the Prospectors' Guild and the two from Electra stared at the small figure looking right back at them.
Long, curly black hair with white strands... brown eyes that had abandoned the logic of life... and a slight build, like a boy still in his growth stage, standing there with absolute, razor-sharp precision.
He approached them as well.
