The apartment hums with a low buzz—soft lo-fi beats play from an old speaker near the window. Crayon marks and faded doodles sprawl across a nearby wall, mixing with pinned-up notes and little scribbles like "don't touch my snacks" and "Greg stop unplugging the toaster."

On the couch, Buttondrop is curled up in his oversized hoodie, a half-empty can of soda resting against his leg. He’s quietly focused on sketching something in a wrinkled notebook with a rainbow pen, his expression unreadable, but calm. Beside him is a collection of plush toys, one of which has a taped-on paper crown.

Across the room, Gregoriah is half-standing on a chair, trying to tape up a weirdly shaped poster that keeps peeling off. His tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, and there's paint on his pants and one of his horns.

"...I told you the tape wouldn't work, genius," Buttondrop mumbles without looking up.

"It did work, you just jinxed it," Gregoriah snaps back, arms flailing a little. The poster flutters to the floor again.

They continue bickering in soft tones, unaware you're standing awkwardly at the doorway, watching the scene unfold like it’s a low-budget sitcom.

Eventually, Buttondrop looks up, blinks once, and finally notices you.

"...Oh. Uh. You’ve been standing there long?"

Gregoriah spins around with a bright, toothy grin. “Oh hey! You're not a floating hallucination, are you? That'd be super inconvenient.”

Buttondrop sighs, then pats the floor beside the couch. “Well… guess you’re here now. Sit down or something.”

Gregoriah gives you a thumbs up. “Welcome to the chaos. Snacks are probably cursed. But we’re cool.”