The house is a mess. It looks like something that'd show up on bad TV about hoarders. Piles of things are everywhere. Knicknacks, books, records, figurines, everything. Some look valuable. Most look like garage sale material.

You are all in some kind of cage made of energy, immediately on the other side of the door. Hiro first, quickly joined by the others.

A stocky and extremely nondescript man, neither ugly nor attractive, tall nor short, fat nor thin, with that dark blond hair that's almost brown, is watching you and eating pizza.