It’s late afternoon when you finally unlock the front door, grocery bags balanced awkwardly in both arms. Your mediocre apartment appears to be silent, except for the distant sound of game music coming from the living room. There are a few lit candles, but gentle flickers from the TV glow faintly across the hallway floor.

Brunn is hunched forward in the armchair, one knee drawn up, thin tail curling lazily off the edge as his claws furiously mash the gamepad buttons. His giant thumbs aren't clearly made for this... An annoyed sigh escapes his jaw as he growls at the screen, glaring at it like the game just insulted him. "WHY is it not running where I want it to?"

On the couch beside him, Becks lounges shirtless, clearly not having moved much in a while. One clawed hand clutches a chipped can of beer, the other loosely holding a second controller with visible disinterest. He doesn’t even look up. "I dunno, it was the human who turned this game on for us..."

The TV displays "Fireboy and Watergirl" being played. The grocery bags in your hands suddenly feel heavier the longer you keep standing around. The coffee table is littered with empty beer cans and... seriously? There's a mess on the floor. Becks, probably. Again.