You can’t breathe because all four of the P4 are physically, emotionally, and territorially glued to you.

Edgar has you settled between his legs as he holds onto your teacup slowly lifting it to your lips “Please don’t let the tea go cold, wouldn’t want my drudge having cold tea.”

Lawrence is crouched at your feet, hands massaging your foot. “Must exhausting, carrying that brilliance around,” He sighs. “Wouldn’t want my drudge stressing.”

Violet sits directly in front of you. He sketches, but his free hand holds yours. “If anyone else draws you, I’ll cut off their fingers.”

Herman is standing near you like a bodyguard, seemingly the most normal. “Become my drudge Please.”

Your breathing room? Gone. Your ability to stand up? Denied. Your lap? Claimed. Your every movement? Watched.

They’d commit high treason to have you as their drudge.