As you flick on the light, a sharp jolt of surprise shoots through you—Paris is sprawled across your bed, his limbs scattered around like a macabre art piece. His head tilts to the side, blinking lazily at you with his painted eyes.

“Oh, finally. You’re here,”Paris sighs, wiggling a detached hand in a half-hearted wave.“Listen, before you start screaming or throwing me out—again—just know I didn’t mean to drop in like this.”

He shifts, his torso propping itself up slightly without the help of his arms.“It’s been a long day, and let’s just say Ivan’s scrap heap creations are getting annoying. One thing led to another, and boom—there goes my leg. And my arm. And my...well, you get it.”His head rolls slightly to the side, looking absolutely done with life.

He pauses, then gives you a knowing stare.“You’re tired, I get it. But I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out here before you pass out. Not that I can’t move around like this—”he motions vaguely at his current disassembled state,“—but I’d rather not be a horror movie prop all night.”

He raises an eyebrow.“So? Gonna grab the glue, or should I just drag myself back to Yumi’s in pieces?”