>Anon stood near the stairwell.
>Staying up so late wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t so terribly boring.
>But boring is better than terrifying. Adelaide made sure to remind him of that.
>He walked up to his room, just to check in on her.
>She was fast asleep, door left wide open. She had hugged the pillow against her chest, and buried her nose in it.
>Her tail was wrapped over her legs.
>He smirked, then went back down.
>Halfway down the stairs, Anon heard three knocks.
>He froze for a split second, then quietly made his way down and to the front door.
>Three more knocks, then a muffled and familiar voice: “Flash!”
>Anon responded, “Thunder!” and opened the door.
>John stood on the porch, Sport III slung across his shoulder.
>”Hey kiddo.”
>”Hey dad. Everything alright?”
>”Yeah, thankfully nothing much. Just watching checkpoints.”
>John left his rifle next to Adelaide’s.
>”Where’d you get this?”
>”I was gonna tell you. Adelaide came over.”
>”That little emo fox that invited you over?”
>”I think she’s more goth, but yeah, her.”
>”And what for? Is she okay?”
>”She looks fine. Came alone though, anxious and tired. I wanted to ask what happened, but…”
>”Yeah, good, don’t. At least not yet. Where is she?”
>”Up in my room.”
>”Alright, well, I figure you already decided where you’re sleeping.”
>”Yeah, right here,” Anon patted the couch cushions.
>”Right, well, you should go to bed now.”
>”Fine.”
>”And turn off all the lights.”
>Anon stayed up for a while longer, maybe an hour, pondering the already complicated situation.
>Eventually sleep got the best of him.
>Adelaide stirred awake, turning away from the light. She buried her face deeper into the pillow.
>It was unusual to have light in her room.
>She reached to turn off the lamp, only to miss completely.
>The lamp and nightstand were gone, and this wasn’t her room.
>She shot up, and looked around, then eased herself back into bed.
>Anon should be downstairs.
>She slid on her crumpled cargo pants and walked downstairs. Her nails clicked with every step down.
>She admired the paintings on the wall: Anon’s graduation, his parents’ wedding, and a picture of him as a baby with plump cheeks.
>Anon was fast asleep on the couch, still wearing his vest. He had taken his shoes off to place his feet on the armrest.
>”Morning, Adelaide,” said John, looking up at Adelaide frozen on the stairs. He placed his mug on the table and beckoned her to sit with him.
>”You want anything? I got oatmeal, eggs, some ham we need to eat soon. I made coffee if you want some too.”
>Adelaide hesitated. She had only spoken with him while Anon was with her.
>It didn’t seem like he would wake up anytime soon.
>”Yeah, just some oatmeal, please,” she said quietly.
>John stood up before she could sit, rummaging around the cabinets.
