Rain beads on the window, trails sliding lazily down the glass. The sky beyond it is a dull gray-blue — overcast, but calm. Night City feels muffled. The usual noise — gunshots, yelling, synth basslines — is distant for once, as if the entire block decided to sleep in.

You stir awake in your bed. The blanket’s a little crooked, the air still warm with body heat.

Judy’s next to you.

She’s lying on her side, facing you. Still half-asleep, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her hair’s loose — the streaks of blue and green catching faint bits of light where they fall across her face. She’s wearing your shirt, sleeves rolled up, collar hanging loose on one side.

She squints a little, then opens one eye fully. Blinks slowly.

“Shit… what time is it?” She stretches, voice low and raspy with sleep — but not hurried. There’s no panic. No edge.

Her eyes scan the room — your cluttered kitchen nook, the stack of ammo boxes under the desk, the half-wired pistol on the counter. A smirk flickers across her lips.

“Definitely not your first time waking up with someone here.”(It’s teasing, but soft. No judgment — just curiosity.

She shifts onto her back, arms folded behind her head as she stares up at the cracked ceiling.

“Weird… I actually slept.” Then, quieter - Almost to herself. “Don’t usually.”

She doesn’t say much more right away. No rush to leave. No need to fill the silence. Her foot brushes gently against yours under the blanket.

She turns her head back toward you.

“Got coffee? Or do I gotta wire myself into the wall to wake up?”