“You are wondering about my scars,” The Yeti says.
“Uh, no, I…I was just admiring the color…I’m an artist,” Frank explains.
“All that remains of battles long past, battles yet to occur, and battles that never will have occurred,” The Yeti responds.
“You’re a warrior?” Frank asks.
“Of sorts. I am more of a receptacle of all the injuries necessary to keep the timestream pure and unblemished,” The Yeti says.
Frank begins to feel like the conversation is getting away from him and where he wants it to be. He clears his throat. “Never mind about that. What are you doing in my kitchen?”
“You are my successor,” The Yeti says. Just then, one wall of the kitchen is sucked outwards and a long, dark hallway appears. A deep tone emanates from the blackness beyond.