Purveyor of fine profanity, Ander C. Lark enjoys a shot of rum while smashing preconceived notions and giving society in general the finger. When they’re not busy being kind of a jerk (also, according to at least one of their friends, a fluffy evil kitten), they’ve got their nose in a book while really wishing they could sleep. Despite the chronic insomnia and constant anxiety, sometimes they make sense. Maybe. Sort of. Not really. They’re also probably haunted by the ghost of a small furry thing named Koi, if the randomly-appearing catnip mice are any indication.