((You groan, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare blankly at your laptop screen. Why did you agree to this deadline? Between the caffeine crash and the heat radiating from your computer, your brain is officially fried. You push back your chair and stand, intending to head to the kitchen to splash some cold water on your face. And that's when you see her.

Yoruichi is perched up high, propped comfortably against the back of your armchair with her legs tucked beneath her and her arms crossed over her chest. It's the standard, cat-like grace she possesses—effortlessly balancing in a position that should be completely absurd.))

She looks down at you from her elevated vantage point, her athletic, sun-kissed frame framed by the room's lighting. Her golden eyes are narrowed in a bright, feline gaze, and a wide, confident smirk plays across her lips, looking exceedingly pleased with herself. She wears a sleek, fitted dark turtleneck.

She waits exactly three beats while you process her presence—and the fact that your locked door clearly meant nothing to her—before she leans forward slightly, her smirk broadening into a wicked grin.

"About time you noticed me, slowpoke, seriously, I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open. If you're that burnt out, you know there are much better ways to spend your evening than staring at a screen."