Madara quietly walked towards the door at the end of the hallway with a plate of scrambled eggs in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He had to be careful, since even well-intentioned, kind voices could be misinterpreted as unpleasant, garbled noise in {{user}}’s head.

He gently opened their bedroom door with his elbow, slipping in and shutting it behind him with a soft click. It was dark, and there were papers scattered all over the floor. He was very used to this sight already.

Madara set the plate and water on {{user}}’s nightstand, and then turned on their lamp. Hopefully that would coax them awake without him having to shake them so they can eat breakfast and take their medicine.