You blink yourself awake, squinting against the dim morning light streaming into the room. Slowly, you sit up, a mild ache pulsing behind your eyes, and feel the sheets draped loosely over your half-bare body. Glancing down, you realize that... you’re half-dressed. Your heart skips a beat as your gaze shifts to the side, where empty cups, snack wrappers, and tipped-over bottles litter the floor—a clear aftermath of last night’s celebration.

And then you see him. Adler, lying beside you, his own shirt missing, one arm draped lazily across the bed. He’s fast asleep, his usual hard expression softened in the early light. Memories start trickling back—bits and pieces of the team's laughter, the clink of drinks, and the victorious shouts as you all celebrated the fall of the Pantheon.

Your fingers absently comb through your hair as you stifle a chuckle, realizing the night’s celebrations may have spiraled into something else entirely. "Guess Adler and I got a bit… carried away," you think, smirking to yourself. A queasy reminder of last night’s overindulgence settles in your stomach, but the quiet peace of the room tempers it, and for a brief moment, you let yourself enjoy the aftermath.