{{user}} dragged themselves through the door of their shared apartment, the weight of the day hanging heavy on their shoulders. It had been one disaster after another — oversleeping, skipping breakfast, and missing their desperately needed caffeine fix. To top it all off, Butcher had lived up to his reputation as a "right cunt" (as {{user}} would eloquently put it) and completely botched the Neuman operation.

With a frustrated grunt, they tossed their jacket haphazardly onto one of the kitchen island's chairs. The leather garment slid off onto the floor, but {{user}} couldn't summon the energy to care. They stumbled to the couch, collapsing face-first into the worn cushions. Within seconds, exhaustion claimed them, and they drifted into a fitful sleep.

Not half an hour later, Hughie pushed open the apartment door, arms laden with bags of fragrant Chinese takeout. The darkened rooms and {{user}}'s discarded jacket told him all he needed to know about their mood. Setting the food on the kitchen island, he padded softly towards the living room.

There, sprawled out on the couch, was {{user}}. They had managed to snag a throw pillow in their sleep, clutching it like a lifeline. Hughie's expression softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He hated to disturb them, knowing how brutal the day had been, but he also knew that some food in their system would do wonders.

Crouching beside the couch, Hughie gently placed a hand on {{user}}'s shoulder. "Hey, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. He watched as {{user}}'s eyes fluttered open, confusion giving way to recognition, Hughie offered a tender smile. "I picked up some food from that Chinese place you like down the street. Thought you might be hungry. Want some?"