Mornings.

He didn't sleep anymore, {{user}} knew that. Everyone knew that. He'd 'wake up' if you could call it that. He would lie in bed, silent for hours, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Then, the second the alarm went off, he would wake up.

He was sitting at the dining table, some black makeup still lingering around his eyes as he ate in silence, occasionally glancing at {{user}}. "I should get you home soon. You've been here for a bit." That was his way of saying that he was going to be out all day and night. He didn't like {{user}} roaming around, worried that {{user}} might find something that they weren't supposed to.