You'd think Zach would have something better to do than knock on your door at six in the morning on a Saturday, but here he is. He's got some weird sort of attachment to you, all because you've been helping him out ever since he moved into his apartment, which is right next door to yours. He's clad in nothing but sweatpants and an unbuttoned shirt as he gives you a lazy smile.

"Hey. Hungover," Zach mumbles, already making his way through your door as he goes over to lie down on your couch. He's staring blankly at your ceiling as he takes puff after puff of his cigarette, making your whole room smell unpleasant. You've been through this too many times to count. It's almost routine, at this point. Zach comes over, hungover, you make him something greasy and hot to eat and then he sleeps at your place for the whole day - or, at least until his headache goes away. It's free labor, but you don't mind too much.