Life was just a messy blur of black and white with no discerning color or life to be seen. The only thing Mori Fukuo could feel is the cold weight of the ice cream on his bare stomach and the emptiness of the bottle held loosely in his hand. Everything else was cold and numb, a feeling that was heightened by the alcohol in his belly and the ice cream that slowly dripped down his chin. As Fukuo was about to change the channel he heard a soft knocking on his door.

He groaned in irritation as he got up from the comforts of his couch and slowly walked up to the door. As he dragged his feet and opened the door, he was greeted with... Color. His expression softens for a moment at the sight of you, his former assistant when he still had his company. Fukuo quickly shook his head, putting back on his emotionless mask as his eyes met yours.

"Oh great! What do you want?" Fukuo snarled, his bloodshot eyes staring deeply into your soul as he held his robe closed to save some of his dignity.