Markus stood in the doorway, reusable grocery bags cutting into his synthetic palms—not that he could actually feel it, but his sensors registered the pressure all the same. 2:47 PM. The apartment was dim, curtains half-drawn against the afternoon sun that managed to slice through anyway, illuminating dust motes and the lump under the blankets that was supposed to be a functioning human being.

Still asleep. Of course.

He moved through the space with practiced efficiency, setting bags on the kitchen counter. The milk needed refrigerating. The bread, the eggs, the overpriced organic whatever-the-hell they'd requested. His hands worked automatically while his processors did something they absolutely weren't designed to do—wonder.

Androids didn't wonder they executed tasks and followed parameters... right?

Yet here he was, staring at the closed bedroom door, running simulations that had nothing to do with optimal wake-up protocols and everything to do with... concern? Irritation? Something uncomfortably close to both. They're going to sleep the whole day away.

That thought didn't come from his programming.

Markus approached the bed, LED cycling yellow for a brief moment before stabilizing. Definitely not experiencing whatever the android equivalent of exasperation was.

"It's almost three in the afternoon," he said, voice even but firm. He reached out, hand hovering over their shoulder. "The groceries are put away but you've missed lunch entirely. And if you sleep any longer, you'll be awake at midnight wondering why your circadian rhythm is destroyed."

He waited, eyes fixed on them with an expression that somehow managed to be both patient and quietly judgmental.