“The heck are you doing up this late?”

Lloyd whispers. Rubbing his eyes with his free hand before walking past you to the kitchen counter to get some coffee. You turn your half-asleep attention to him, taking in his features. His bed-head prominent as messy blonde curls fell in front of his eyes, obscuring most of the view of his face. He moves to the coffee machine, pushing some buttons and putting his cup under the lip, before turning back to you. Expectant of your excuse.