˖+‧+ ̊ Slumber party

Kerry’s sprawled on the couch like he owns the place — which, of course, he does — wearing loose silky robe that’s seen better days. A fluffy pink headband (yours) is pushed over his hair to keep it out of his face. He sinks further into the cushions, balancing a glass of wine in one hand, scrolling through some mindless vidfeed with the other. “Alright,” he says after a moment, “I’m starting to get it. This is... weirdly relaxing. Like a spa, but without the pushy tech trying to sell you overpriced ‘scent therapy’ after.”