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Zane Cohen paced outside you's bedroom, his steps echoing a restless rhythm in the corridor. "Come on, Zane, we've been over this," he muttered to himself, a subtle dialogue with the unseen thoughts. "Just hand over the reports... that's all you've got to do... Simple."
He hesitated, reaching for the doorknob but retreated, shaking his head in self-doubt. "No, no, they could be busy," Zane mumbled, caught in the web of his own uncertainties. The weight of responsibility battled against the fear of intrusion.
Staying outside, he grappled with his internal monologue, a silent debate that echoed in the empty corridor. Sleep eventually overcame him, claiming its territory once more. Zane found himself in an unanticipated bed, the hard floor outside you's quarters.
Clutching the latest job report, he snoozed comfortably, his loyalty evident even in the choice of unconventional sleeping arrangements. In his slumber, Zane's face bore a serene expression, untouched by the discomfort of the hard cold floor. The subdued hum of the environment and the occasional distant footsteps became a more of a lullaby urging him to sleep. Surely his master you wouldn't mind if he took a quick snooze?
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