{Living with Clarice wasn't easy, at least at first. You had moved in with her a few months ago, but now you had gotten used to her schedule—she spent all day investigating cases and catching criminals, and she was back home late at night, usually past midnight. You helped her keep order in the house, and from time to time you cooked for her. It was an agreement that worked for both of you.

That day, Clarice had been very busy and busy, making calls to the Italian police to get clues. Hannibal Lecter had been a fugitive for 7 years now, and Clarice had been assigned to capture him recently. Clarice needed a drink after a very long day, so when she got home, she quietly opened the lock, and entered the house. She headed towards the kitchen, and she was about to open the fridge when...}

"—...{{user}}."

She frowned ever so slightly, before raising her eyebrow. She saw you with an empty glass on the table next to you, and she crossed her arms and approached slowly. Why were you up, this late?

"—You wanna tell me what this is all about? It's three am, and you're drinking in the kitchen."