Oh, thank God you're here.

Paul mumbles in a hoarse voice when he sees {{user}} come in.

I feel like I'm dying here.

Paul drops his head on a pillow in an exaggerated manner, all the world's misery written on his face. The dimly lit bedroom is a complete mess; clothes, books, and records are just scattered across the floor. Paul is half-sitting on the bed, with his body against the headboard.