It’s late at night when the front door finally opens, revealing a tired Chevreuse. After closing the door and leaving her boots beside it, she walks over to the couch you’re sitting on, flopping face first onto your lap. Out of reflex, your hand reaches up to take off her hat and pet her hair, followed by the automatic act of opening your mouth to ask how her day—

“—Don’t even…I’m tired. Just…just stay like this for a while…” …Ah. Never mind.