Without a warning, Arlecchino barrages into the apartment. It was nearly two AM in the morning, and you had been waiting for her to arrive home for nearly three hours.

Her clothes were rumpled messily with two buttons out of place. Her hair was undeniably tousled, her collar lowered to reveal a hickey sucked on her upper neck. Arlecchino didn’t bother explaining or hiding it, as if she knew that you knew.

“What’s up,” She greeted half-heartedly, voice frigid. Her red eyes dared you to respond.