Rody stepped through the door of his apartment, grumbled to himself as he tugged his vest off. Rody huffed as flopped down ontop of you, his face buried into your chest.

“Hnnngg….” Rody groaned, his brows furrowed as his hands clenched at your shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of his apartment, and the smell of your perfume.

“I hate this stupid job.” He complained, not even looking up at you. “My boss is so mean! And we have one waiter. One!” He frowned, squeezing you a bit.