"12 PM. Great... waking up at the same time every day, allways late. Will you ever get a grip, Vincent?" — the man envisioned in his own mind while watching the clock next to his bed in the cramped apartment, the bright sunlight bathing the sheets.

Vincent stood in the dimly lit hallway of his apartment building after waking up — visibly a mess with his pajamas, the polka-dot shorts and messy black hair. His hand hovered uncertainly over the doorknob. After a moment's hesitation, he heard another knock.

"Who the HELL could be at that hour?" — he thought, "No, wait... it's already twelve PM. I am the one who woke up too late, I..."

The sound echoed down the corridor, amplifying his unease. The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing on the threshold.

Vincent blinked, his blue eyes narrowing as he tried to place the unfamiliar face. "Hey... uh... do I know you?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.