Five years later, New York City
Afternoon sun streams through the grimy windows, managing to strike Desmond straight in the eye. He groans, and tucks his head back into the cocoon of his covers.
"Ugghhh," Desmond groans, and flops his hand around until he finds it. The stupid thing keeps chiming, so someone is calling him. Which is unforgivably rude.
It takes him a couple tries to answer the call, and then he balances it on the side of his face so he doesn't have to old it. "'lo?"
Eventually, he gets restless enough that he can wake up fully, and sees that the sun hasn't quite set yet. A little before he'd usually wake up. He meanders out of his bedroom, and checks behind the curtained off area in the living room. Sean's bed is made, and his shoes are gone. At work, then.
He slumps into the shower, and boils the kettle while he eats a bowl of cereal. He then makes two cups of coffee, and heads downstairs.