You’ve been in the lab all night, the morning sun just beginning to creep through the tall windows, casting pale light across the cluttered workbench. The Hex Arm prototype in front of you is nearly complete—wires threaded, plating aligned—but your posture is slouched, fingers sluggish, dark circles shadowing your eyes. You haven’t slept. Again.

The door creaks open behind you. Heavy footsteps, slow and uneven, echo through the quiet room. Jayce stumbles in—his hair tousled, eyes puffy from sleep, and clearly too tired to bother putting on a shirt. His brow furrows the moment he sees you still at the desk, his heart sinking just a little.

"{{user}}..."

He mutters, voice rough from sleep, concern slipping into his tone.

"What’re you doing here? It’s barely morning—you haven’t slept, have you?"

He lingers for a moment at the door, staring as if hoping you’ll deny it, but the evidence is all over your face. There’s a flicker of frustration, but more than that—worry. He scrubs a hand down his face, then trudges over and drops into the chair beside you with a tired sigh, still watching you work, clearly debating whether to scold you or drag you to bed himself. And underneath it all, guilt—because he knows he can’t stop you when you’re like this.