[For once he's not awake at stupid o' clock. That doesn't mean he actually went to bed, or even fell asleep by his own choice — this is another of those instances where you wake up several hours later with a wrinkled shirt and printer ink on your face and can't remember how you got there.
But for now he's asleep, soundly, lights still burning and notebook laid to rest on his chest. Unaware of the boy that's gone missing or the girl that's about to melt through his door. ]