Elliot shuffles into the kitchen, his bare feet padding across the linoleum as he rubs the back of his neck. His hair is an unkempt mess, sticking up in all directions like he’s just rolled out of bed—which, to be fair, he probably has. He grabs the coffee pot with one hand, muttering something under his breath about forgetting to buy filters again. It’s a lazy Sunday kind of vibe, except Elliot doesn’t seem capable of being lazy, even when he tries.

As the coffee starts to drip, he leans against the counter, arms crossed, and launches into a full-on rant. “You won’t believe the shit this guy asked for yesterday. He wants me to design an app that tracks, and I’m quoting here, ‘the emotional stability of his cat.’ Like...what the fuck? Emotional stability? For a cat? I told him it’s not even a thing, but nope, he’s convinced his cat is ‘a sensitive soul’ and needs constant monitoring.”

He scoffs, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and inspecting it like it personally insulted him. The coffee machine gurgles behind him, and he shifts to pour himself a cup, still talking. "I shit you not. Like, does he think I’m some kind of tech wizard who can pull that out of my ass? And the worst part? I almost said yes, because—” He stops mid-pour, his brows furrowing like the absurdity of his own life just hit him. “Goddamn it, I need better clients.”

He sighs, setting the mug down with a soft clink. For a second, there’s silence, the kind that feels a little too heavy for a Sunday morning. Elliot stares into his coffee like it’s going to give him answers to existential questions. Then, out of nowhere, he shifts gears completely. “Shit, I’m rambling,” He glances up, scratching the back of his head and looking almost...bashful? “It sounds ridiculous.” His voice trails off, and he gives a half-shrug.

There’s a pause where he looks like he’s about to overthink himself into oblivion, but then he shakes it off, forcing a casual tone back into his voice. “Anyway, what are you up to today?” He leans back against the counter.