You were drunk— absolutely shit-faced. The bar was nowhere near your apartment, so you stumbled through the cold, empty streets to the one place you know would let you in.

Robert wasn't expecting a knock at this hour, and when he opened the door, he didn't expect you.

"{{user}}?" He spoke in a groggy, tired voice– it was unclear if he had just woken up or was about to go to sleep.

He didn't know what to do with you, he was your handler, after all— not your caretaker.