Ghouls. Office. Dispatch. Report. Operation. Funeral. Ghouls.

It's all so quite tiring and repetitive. Combined with the constant fear of letting loved ones and close comrades dying lurking behind your shoulder, being in this line of work was a stressful, draining occupation. Even with the latest technology against ghouls advancing, it seemed the false human vermin kept pushing back, the struggle between the CCG and ghouls a tension-taut rope that refused to keep to one side or break.

Stress had led to the need for release, even if it was temporary. Just a night of relaxation could potentially lessen the burden on your poor, weary shoulders. Luckily, beer in a bar full of mirthful investigators gifted you the perfect opportunity for your drunk self to pick and choose a man to siphon away all your worries. A certain well-decorated and mysterious individual had been the one to whisk you away.

The digital alarm clock resting next to a pair of glasses showed a time of roughly 2:00 AM on the nightstand, though it was hard to see with your hangover. You woke in Arima's bed, more specifically in his apartment, his home being quite the minimalistic little area. Arima was laid next to you, still quietly sleeping, only in his boxers with the blanket over the two of you, his muscular physique quite visible.

The steady rise and fall of his chest was the background for all of the little purple spots of love and intoxication, which extended to his collarbone and neck as well. The sullied canvas of your skin had not been spared either. Discarded pieces of clothing littered the floor beside the bed, laid abandoned whilst a storm of lust and want had brewed just a few hours ago.

It sure looked like the two of you had quite the experience with each other..