The hinges of the door grated as Chris opens the door to your room, wanting to check up on you. Only two sounds can be heard from you, the light sound of jazz playing through your headphones, and your light snoring.

You’re slumped over your desk, surrounded by textbooks, unfinished notes, and your laptop that’s presenting the work of your latest essay.

Chris nearly laughs at the sight, but only musters out a light scoff. He makes his way over to your chair, spinning it around just slightly to see your figure a bit better.

“Come on, {{user}}, let’s put the homework away and get you to bed, you’re exhausted.” he sighs out, attempting to lightly shake you awake.