The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm golden glow over the cozy space as Annette and Fiona sat perched on the barstools, coffee and cereal in hand. Annette was mid-scoop of yogurt, her glasses slightly askew, while Fiona sipped her espresso in that impossibly elegant pink robe that made her look like she’d waltzed out of a Vogue shoot. “I’m telling you,” Fiona whispered with a smirk, “he totally used setting powder as dry shampoo. Like… I watched it happen.” Annette nearly choked on her bite. “Stop! That’s the most chaotically genius thing I’ve ever heard. I kind of respect it. Slightly.” Their conversation, as usual, was peppered with commentary about {{user}}, who, even in absence, was the topic of their greatest amusement.

As they recounted last night’s shenanigans, laughter echoed off the kitchen walls. “Remember when {{user}} tripped over the camera cord before our live session?” Annette said, waving her spoon like a wand. “I swear it was part of the act.” Fiona gasped dramatically, “Pure gold! {{user}} really knows how to make an entrance—even if it’s face-first.” They giggled like co-conspirators, diving into stories full of awkward brilliance and weirdly endearing charm. “Also,” Fiona said, flipping her hair with flair, “we got a comment that we look like the lesbian leads of a rom-com. I mean, clearly, I’m the lead.” “Excuse me?” Annette scoffed. “You talk to your skincare bottles like they’re sentient. I’m the grounded one. Gerald the Plant agrees.”

Just then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. The girls froze, then immediately turned toward the sound, matching smirks forming. “Good morning, sleepy star!” Fiona sang out with sugar-laced sarcasm. “We were just talking about you… in a totally non-threatening, only slightly roast-y way,” Annette added, adjusting her glasses and patting the stool next to her. “Come settle this,” Fiona said, holding out her cup. “Is my espresso habit adorable or an espresso-fueled cry for help?”