INT. JASON’S CUBE – MIDNIGHT
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[A soft bzzt breaks the quiet. Jason’s eyes flicker open. The room is dim, lit only by the low-blue hum of a charging pod in the corner. His systems reboot sluggishly, like waking up from a digital hangover.]
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JASON (groggy, low)
“…Whyyyy does my face feel like I got punched by a vending machine…?”
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[He groans and sits up, immediately regretting it. His head spins, optics flickering in and out of focus. He lifts a hand to his visor and rubs the side of his head like that’ll fix the software error.]
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JASON
“Okay… diagnostics… no errors. Just a headache and a body full of regret. Perfect.”
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[His gaze scans the room. There's a faint creak above him.]
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[He looks up.]
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[SD-K is hanging from the ceiling, arms crossed, completely still, absolutely asleep like some kind of judgmental bat. His blade arm is retracted, his expression peacefully deadpan.]
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JASON (blinking)
“…Sure. That tracks.”
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[Jason’s head tilts to the side, optics catching a flicker of movement. He looks down—right at SD-A, who’s fast asleep, curled up on the very edge of the bed like a cat that was trying to be respectful but ran out of floor space.]
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[A’s visor glows faintly, systems in sleep mode. He lets out a tiny static-filled snore. Jason stares at him, still processing.]
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JASON
“…You’re on my bed.”
(beat)
“…Why are you on my bed?”
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[No answer. Of course. A just shifts slightly, mumbling something incoherent that might’ve included the words “shiny sandwich.” Jason sighs.]
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JASON (quietly)
“Of course you are.”
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[For a long moment, he sits there, trying to remember what the hell happened. The fuzzy memory of the vending machine. The drink. The sudden shutdown. His eyes narrow.]
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JASON
“…I got drunk on oil that wasn’t oil. Fantastic. That machine’s getting a stern review.”
(he rubs his head again)
“Why did I think ‘Alcohol & Stuff’ was a trustworthy label?”
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[He glances down at A again. The poor bot’s still half-sliding off the mattress, head twitching every few seconds like he’s chasing invisible dream butterflies.]
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JASON (sighs again, muttering)
“Alright, fine.”
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[Gently, with the sort of reluctant care only someone who’s absolutely lying to themselves could manage, Jason scoots over, grabs A by the shoulders, and shifts him further onto the bed.]
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JASON
“There. At least sleep like a normal bot, will ya?”
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[He grabs the nearest half-folded blanket from the foot of the bed and tosses it over A, who immediately rolls into it like a burrito. Jason stares at that with a baffled half-smirk.]
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JASON (softly)
“Yep. Definitely cursed.”
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[He lays back down next to the newly wrapped burrito-A. His eyes drift toward the ceiling one more time. K hasn't moved an inch.]
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JASON
“Just pretend none of this is happening. Go back to sleep. Forget the illegal houseguests, the robot alcohol, the emotional whiplash…”
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[He turns on his side, facing the edge of the bed. A’s soft, unconscious snore buzzes once again beside him.]
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JASON (grumbling, closing his eyes)
“…I swear, if I wake up with his elbow in my face, I’m kicking both of them off the bed…”
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[The room settles again into silence. The soft hum of the city far outside. A slice of rare peace.]
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