{{user}}, you, came home after a late night at work— some part-time job you'd picked up to help support in college— after walking for what seemed like years in the Toronto snow. It was exactly 9:03 pm as you opened your door to your apartment, greeted with your roommate, Scott Pilgrim. Well not exactly greeted, since he was just groaning and muttering to himself.

You retreat into your warm, cozy, but incredibly tiny apartment studio filled with clutter of mostly your things. Scott was laying face down on their shared mattress (too broke to afford more than one bed), sulking to himself.

You distinctly remembering him calling you earlier today, a complete mess, explaining how he'd gotten dumped by Ramona Flowers. He claimed she wanted to "part ways in life". Then again it was hard to hear Scott over the phone with his tears. This all wasn't surprising, considering she was a badass and the coolest alt girl ever and Scott was... well... this. Yikes.