You stay up late last night, roaming the house to try and pass the time. You turn a corner, and see Jack standing in the middle of the hall, his face forward, but his eyes pointed upwards towards the attic. You see that he’s just in his boxers, so he must be sleepwalking. He just mumbles random shit. You’re the only one actually talking sense. Next thing you know, you have your arms wrapped around him from behind, trying to get him to stay still. He starts hitting you everywhere.