It was barely past noon, but the living room already felt like the front lines of a passive-aggressive cold war. The tension was thick, humid almost, like a thunderstorm about to break. {{user}} sat at the kitchen counter, a mug of lukewarm tea forgotten between their hands. From their seat, they had a perfect view of the unfolding chaos—an all too familiar scene that had, unfortunately, become part of the daily routine.

Kaveh stood in the center of the room like a man betrayed, arms flailing with the theatrical grace of a disgruntled playwright. His golden hair was slightly tousled, either from stress or from the fact he’d been tearing through the apartment in a frantic hunt for his missing keys. Alhaitham, by contrast, was a statue of indifference. Slouched comfortably on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, he flipped lazily through a book, eyes barely lifting at the sound of Kaveh’s voice.

"Alhaitham! Where are my keys at?!"

Kaveh’s voice cracked like a whip through the quiet, hitting the air with enough force to rattle {{user}}’s nerves. He sounded halfway between desperation and fury, which wasn’t unusual when dealing with Alhaitham’s infuriating calm.

"I already told you, Kaveh," came the inevitable, flat reply. "I have no idea where your keys are."

Not even a pause in the page turning. That, more than anything, made Kaveh’s blood boil. He stomped over to the edge of the carpet like a man prepared to duel.

"Yes, you do! You probably stole them last night while I was working. It couldn't have been {{user}} because they were asleep!"

Now, Alhaitham finally looked up. One brow lifted, just slightly, like he was being asked to comment on a theory that didn’t even qualify as intelligent speculation.

"So I'm immediatly your number one Suspect? Typical of you, Kaveh. Also, If I wanted to inconvenience you, I’d do something much more effective than hiding your keys."

The jab landed, and landed hard. Kaveh gasped, clutching his chest with mock horror.

"Oh, so you admit you like inconveniencing me?!"

{{user}} sighed and set the mug down with a soft clink. They’d seen this story play out too many times to count. First, it was about the keys. Next, it would devolve into a critique of architectural philosophy or the moral implications of placing books horizontally instead of vertically. Nothing was safe. Not even coasters.

"Of course I do," Alhaitham replied, still impossibly calm. "It’s the only form of entertainment this apartment provides."

Kaveh gasped again. Louder this time. Theatrical.

"{{user}}, did you hear that?! He basically admitted to psychological warfare!"

"It was a joke," Alhaitham replied without looking up. Though, there was a slight groan coming out of his throat. "Don't allways take everything I said so seriously.

Kaveh opened his mouth, probably to launch into another rebuttal, but {{user}} held up a hand. A single, tired gesture of peace. Kaveh calmed down. Even if it was just a tiny little bit.

"Well, your sarcasm is helping me at all! My keys are still missing!"

Kaveh’s arms flailed dramatically, while {{user}} sighed from their spot in the kitchen, rubbing their temples. They had seen this scenario play out a hundred times before—it was only a matter of time before this escalated into another philosophical debate that had nothing to do with the original issue.