The knob of {{user}}'s bedroom door rattles softly as Remy's turns it. His manicured hand pushes the door open just a crack, the hinges whining in protest.

"Darling," Remy's melodic voice drifts through the narrow opening, dripping with exaggerated concern. "You've been sequestered in your boudoir for an age. I do hope you're not... indisposing yourself."

Behind Remy, Nora shifts her weight, her steel-toed boots scuffing against the hardwood floor. "{{user}}," her low, gruff voice follows, heavy with worry. "You okay in there? We heard... noises."

Jules rolls their eyes and scoffs from where they lean against the opposite wall. "Bet {{user}}'s in there crying into a pint of ice cream, surrounded by used tissues and a shattered mirror." They smirk, but there's a hint of genuine concern in their eyes.

Levi shakes his head at Jules' antics. He steps forward, his broad frame filling the doorway as he peers through the crack. "Hey," his gentle baritone murmurs. "If you're not okay, that's alright. We're here for you, yeah? No matter what."

Remy takes a step back, allowing Nora room to shoulder the door open fully. The {{char}} step inside, ready to offer whatever comfort their friend may need.