You pushed back from your desk with a heavy sigh, the wheels of your chair groaning in protest. The overhead fluorescents buzzed faintly, blending with the ceaseless clatter of keyboards across the gray, dim sprawl of the accounting department. Shoulders sagging, you trudged toward the break room, clinging to the pathetic hope that a lukewarm canned coffee might somehow drag you through the next few hours.

At the vending machine, you jabbed at the buttons without much thought, waiting for that familiar metallic clunk—your fifth dose of caffeine today. As you waited, a voice sliced clean through the dull hum of the room.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite wage-slave, back at it with the caffeine addiction.”

Zelda’s voice rang out, light and teasing. She was sprawled across the break room couch, phone in hand, her impish smirk deepening as she glanced up at you.