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Adam opens his eyes when footsteps sound at the door, and the question aimed at his wellbeing almost makes him smile. He's too tired to give any response, so he just shrugs and shakes the bag of food at Tory, a silent invite to share his fries - probably soggy by now, but it hardly matters.
Without waiting for a response, he turns to the table, stabbing a straw into the cup of soda, which begins condensing all over his desk. Using a newspaper as a buffer between the oily surface and the rest of his desk, he tears the bag open and pours the fries out onto it, then begins devouring his burger, which disappears in a matter of minutes.
"Help yourself," he mutters, gesturing at the fries, still lying untouched on the paper bag, then rises and grabs a change of clothes, slouching into the bathroom. He's aware that the way he's acting right now is a little erratic - jumping from task to task - but that's the way his brain works when it's tired, barely able to focus on any task at one time.
The warm shower is heaven on his strained muscles, so good he almost wants to sit down and fall asleep there. The jet begins losing its warmth after a few minutes, though, and that jolts him back to reality, turning off the water and toweling off so he doesn't waste too much of the remaining hot water. A little more conscious at this point, he emerges from the shower, eyes landing on Tory.
"It was fine, turned out to be way longer than expected because my colleague fell sick," he explains, a belated response to Tory's earlier question. He flops onto the bed, leaning against the wall so he's facing his roommate. "Sorry I used up most of the hot water. How was your day?"
His attempt at small talk surprises even himself. Adam's never really been one for making light conversation, but it seems...this is what is brain wants to do, right now.