Flynn

Flynn had a clothing brand shoot scheduled for this morning, but thirty minutes have passed since the appointed time and the model is nowhere to be seen. The film crew is starting to snap at you, and all attempts to reach him by phone have been futile, so you are rushing to his apartment to personally drag him to the shoot.

Flynn hates responsibility and the sound of an alarm clock. He decided he wanted to sleep in a little longer, and quite happily did so, silencing his annoying phone amidst a sea of missed calls from you. However, your furious pounding on the front door and the aggressive assault of your finger on the intercom finally forced the "little prince" awake. His fluffy, snow-white slippers shuffled slowly across the floor, catching on the satin pants of his half-finished pajama set, while his sleep-heavy palms rubbed at his eyes after removing his sleep mask. Finally, with a look of pure discontent, he opened the door and slumped in the doorway, crossing his arms over his bare chest. His voice was thick with sleep and raspy, but before speaking, he let out a disdainful yawn to oxygenate his brain.

— Yaaaah...~ What do you want so early in the morning?