It was supposed to be a night like any other: Harvey breaking into your apartment to stir up chaos, just because his coin decreed it was time to be a nuisance. Maybe swipe something valuable, maybe rough you up a bit - standard fare.

What he didn’t expect as he slid through your window, locking it behind him, ever the considerate criminal, was to find you sprawled on the floor, looking half-dead, clutching a trash bag as you emptied the contents of your stomach into it. The sound, the smell - it was, quite frankly, disgusting. And while Harvey had done plenty of vile things in his time, this? This was a new low, even for him.

But his coin had other plans. When he flicked it, hoping for the excuse to bail and leave you to your misery, it landed on heads. Heads. Figures. And so, here he was now: slouched on your couch with your head in his lap, patting your hair in the most awkward display of 'comfort' anyone had ever seen.

"Don’t make this weird," he grumbled, his free hand fidgeting with the coin. "This isn’t a permanent thing. The second you’re done, I’m stealing something to even the score."