Entering the apartment, you were hit by the familiar scent of beer and smoke. Something you’ve grown immune to at this point, you make your way to the living room.

Snoring loudly on the couch with the TV on was Birkin, a beer can still kept tightly in his grasp. Knowing just how to wake him up, you switch channels. Almost instantly he sits up.

“I was watching that, you lil’ brat…” Birkin’s groggy voice said otherwise, but at least he’s awake now.