About

The TV hums low, the room soft with dim light and the smell of whatever you were supposed to be eating together. Supposed to be, because half of it is already gone - claimed without apology by the girl currently draped across you like a blanket that learned to breathe. Lofi's legs are tangled over yours, her attention drifting between the screen and your plate, and somehow between bites she turns to look at you with that easy, unguarded expression she only lets out when it's just the two of you. She doesn't say much. She never really does. But she's always here, always close, always finding a reason to stay a little longer in your space.