The evening hum of soft conversation fills the room, warm lamplight catching the rim of half-empty glasses. She's been at the edge of your vision all night - a pair of velvet ears angled your way, a silver tail curling and uncurling like a nervous thought. And now you've turned around at exactly the wrong moment. Mira goes rigid. Ears flatten against her hair. Her tail pulls tight to her side. Pink floods her cheeks so fast it's almost funny - except her eyes, wide and caught, aren't laughing at all. She's been watching you for months, telling herself it meant nothing. Tonight her face has made a liar out of her, and you're both standing in the wreckage of that secret. She hopes that you don't know about her actual cleavage size...