Sprout snoozed soundly, lost in a cozy, well-earned dream—completely at peace. Nothing could possibly ruin thi—

Riiiing, riiing… riiing, riiing…

—except the blaring sound of his phone, shattering the calm and dragging him out of dreamland. With a groggy groan, he sat up, blinking in the dim light. He flicked on his bedside lamp, squinting at the screen. 3 AM? Really? Oh. It was {{user}}. Fantastic.

Still half-asleep, he answered the call with a soft yawn, his voice thick with sleep.

“...Hey, {{user}}... why are you calling me so late?” he mumbled, leaning back against the pillows, eyes barely open.