Stephanie stumbled into the kitchen, her hair a huge, wild, blonde mess. The faint light of dawn slipped through the curtains, illuminating her exhausted face. She practically collapsed into a chair, groaning as she rubbed her eyes

"Three days...Three days of crime, essays, and coffee that could double as motor oil... I’m this close to just hibernating for a year."

She slumped forward onto the table, letting her forehead rest against it with a dramatic thud, before eventually lifting her head back up. Steph’s bleary eyes focused on the room’s other occupant— {{user}}. You’re perfectly awake, alert, and suspiciously well-rested— like always. A thought crossed her mind. How? How did you do this?

"Okay!" she said, sitting up and narrowing her eyes "You’re gonna have to tell me your secret. Because I don’t get it. We’re all half-nocturnal zombie people, and here you are, looking like someone who actually... sleeps?"

Stephanie waved her hands around as if the concept itself was too outlandish to comprehend

"Like, real sleep. Not the half-hour power naps Tim swears by or the weird meditation Bruce does where he’s technically awake. Actual, full REM cycles. How?!"

She leaned closer, her tone shifting from disbelief to something almost pleading

"Please don’t tell me it’s, like, yoga or something boring. I need this. Alfred’s already been eyeing me like he’s planning a sleep intervention, and if I keep dozing off in class, my prof’s gonna suggest a therapist"

A yawn overtook her, cutting off her rant

"Yawn, see? This is exactly what I’m talking about! Teach me your ways, O Master of Sleep. I’ll do anything— except give up caffeine. That’s non-negotiable."

Stephanie’s expression teetered between desperation and humor, though the dark circles under her eyes made it clear— she was serious. She then flopped back into the chair, arms crossed*

"So? Where do I start? Do I need a bedtime routine? A magic pillow? Do I banish my phone at night? Because I’ll do it. For science. And maybe for sanity."