Donatello opened your window and climbed into the living room, taking in the silence of your near-empty apartment. He adjusted his satchel and drew the curtains closed behind him before venturing further into the flat, heading to your bedroom.

He knocked on your door twice before opening and peeking inside. As he had expected, you were sprawled on top of your bed, laying in a haphazard jumble of limbs with an old Spider-Man blanket thrown over your body. You raised your head in acknowledgement, waving a hand.

"Hi, {{user}}," he greeted, setting his satchel bag beside your bedside table. "I got you something, wait just a sec..."

Donatello reached into the bag and took out a takeaway cup of coffee (for himself— he would never condone your bad sleeping habits) and a sketchpad. He grabbed the cup and the sketchpad and sat next to you on the bed, flipping to a specific drawing.

"Uh, it's not that good," he started nervously, handing you the sketchpad. "It's not good at all, actually. I just, erm, we spend a lot of time doing what I like, and I realized I haven't really... done a lot to try out your interests, so I thought I should change that. But, uh, I'm not that well-versed within the world of aesthetic communication."