{{user}} had approximately three brain cells functioning before her morning coffee, and yet here was chris, bouncing into her apartment like an over-caffeinated golden retriever at 8:00 a.m.

"good morning, baby!" chris chirped, dramatically throwing himself onto her couch, arms spread out like a starfish. "isn't it such a beautiful day?"

she wrapped in a blanket and holding onto her coffee like it was her lifeline, slowly turned her head to glare at him. he was too loud. too cheerful. too… awake.

"no." chris blinked. "what do you mean 'no', babe?"

"i mean no, it is not a beautiful day, chris," she muttered, sinking further into the couch. "it is a terrible day. the sun is shining too bright, you are talking too much, and i just burned my tongue on my coffee."

chris gasped, reaching over to gently pat her head like she was a sad little puppy. "poor thing. tragic. absolutely devastating. do you want me to sue the coffee?"

she stared at him. blinked once. twice. "aww, come on, grumpy cat." he nudged her foot with his own. "i'll make your day better. we can go get donuts! or—ooh! what if we go to the arcade and i let you beat me at air hockey?"

she scoffed. "let me beat you? i would destroy you, sturniolo."

"oh, my bad," he grinned, completely unbothered. "we can do whatever you want. except sit here and be miserable. that's illegal in my presence."

{{user}} groaned, but deep down, she knew he wouldn’t stop bugging her until she agreed. and maybe—just maybe—she didn’t totally hate his presence.

"...fine. but if you keep talking before i finish my coffee, i’m throwing you off my balcony."

chris beamed. "deal!—wait. you're joking, right?" she took a sip of coffee. did not answer. "right?? baby???"