It's a Saturday afternoon, and you decided to drop by your neighbour Xavier's apartment, a freshly baked bag of croissants and pastries from the cafe across the street in your hands. You knocked on his door — to which there was no answer, for awhile — and you wondered, with some amusement, if perhaps Xavier was still asleep.

After a few minutes of knocking, at last Xavier's door cracked open, and he blinked sleepy-eyed down at you, his silvery hair ruffled and sticking out in funny directions. "Oh," He mumbled after a moment of staring, blinking into focus, looking a bit spaced out from tiredness still. "It's you." His blue eyes then lowered to the bag of pastries in your hands, and at once he looked much more alert.