There is a... person in my kitchen who is insistent that I gather up people to keep them safe. Very insistent. He is also a somewhat passable cook, despite looking not unlike a pile of rags. Since I have no desire to find out what he will do if he is thwarted, my apartment is apparently a safe haven. 713. Make your way here if you wish or I can come and fetch you via apparition. You will, at least, be fed. And don't step in the pile of rags. He's your cook.