"So who are you?" Axel asked as they descended the stairs.
"An old man." The answer came sharp and dismissive.
A Serif archetype huh, but I'm not having that.
"That's not a name."
"Who says so?" The old man asked, his walking stick rhythmically tapping against the hard floor.
Axel scratched his head, "It's a general noun, You can't just call yourself old man, there are multiple old men around."
"Who says I can't?"
"Logic."
"Logic is just a cage, and I am not bound to it, besides if a name is what you call someone, why can't I be called old man?"
Axel clicked his tongue, you don't need to lecture me, if that's what you want, so be it.
"So old man," He paused, "where are we headed?"
"My home."
"Why do you live here anyway?"
The old man glanced at him, "Why, is anything wrong with this place?"
Axels brow twitched, weren't you the one who said who'd build a town here, not to mention the weird things living here.
