Misa's sleep schedule has been thrown out of whack, with so much going on during the day and people coming in and out of her apartment at all hours. She has taken to snatching naps when she can rather than getting a good night's sleep, and she doesn't know quite what time it is when she wakes up but her guess is sometime in the evening. The house is blessedly quiet. Maybe people have actually cleared out for a bit? Does that mean she's out of food?

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Misa makes a cursory attempt to brush out her hair and get dressed before peeking out of her bedroom. She heard what sounded like murmuring voices; on the off chance her ears aren't playing tricks on her, better to go out with the assumption that she does not have the apartment to herself.

Opening the door fully, she steps out into the living room, about ask if anyone is there— the words stick in her throat. There is Lazarus. Straddling Cesar. On his air mattress. Making out.

Misa stares, brain too busy short-circuiting to dictate anything else for her to do or say.