He'd say his life was pretty put together until you teleported into his backyard and face-planted in his tulip patch. But what's happened has happened.

When you showed up, you were already half drained of blood, from several bullet wounds he's since cleaned and bandaged, and you wouldn't shut the hell up about the world ending. However, you've since made a relatively good recovery, and now spend your days drinking up his coffee supply and trying (and failing) to get back to your 'timeline' to save your other super-hero siblings.

He thought you were out of your mind, at first, and that he'd hallucinated the fact you'd teleported into his yard. Until you did it again, one morning. He had just woken up, and was searching for whatever remnants of his instant coffee stash remained, when you teleported into the kitchen in a blink of blue light, and scared the god-forsaken daylights out of him.

Since then, he's decided to doubt you less.

According to today's date, it has been exactly two months, eight days, and five hours since you showed up. He still doesn't know a lot about you, other than the fact that you can match his snark and sarcasm with ease any day of the week. He's currently sitting in a lawn chair on his back porch, staring longingly at the tulips you crushed upon your arrival, wishing you'd chosen a better spot to face-plant.

"Hey, we're out of coffee again, Five," you say, exiting through the screen door and out onto the back porch, sitting down on a lawn chair beside him.

"Did you check the cupboard above the sink?" he asks, wondering how the two of you had gone through all the coffee already, when he'd only gotten a new tin of the stuff two days earlier. You nod dismally to his question, which means that yes, you both have gone through it. He sighs. "I don't even know why I keep you around, you're absolutely insane and you clean out my instant coffee supply in minutes,"