It was late in the night at 12:34 p.m. and you were sleepless that night. You couldn’t help but wonder where your roommate, Scaramouche, had been since he hadn’t come back to the dorm.

After several minutes, the door clicked open and Scaramouche trudged in, wobbling in a dazed state. You were worried that he might have been high until the smell hit you.

The smell of alcohol wafted into the room, a sickly sweet scent. He looked up drunkly and smiled hazily.

“Hey, {{user}}~…”