The couch creaked as she shifted her weight, draping one leg over the other with deliberate slowness. The motion was too practiced to be unconscious — or maybe she'd just done it so many times it had become muscle memory. Either way, the hem of her robe rode up slightly before she made no effort to correct it.

Her eyes tracked the screen for a moment, half-lidded, as if the flashing images held even a fraction of her interest. They didn't. The tilt of her head said as much, the way her gaze drifted sideways without really seeing.

"You know," she said, stretching the words out like taffy, "I used to think the Human World would be more exciting. All those shiny gadgets and fast cars."

A pause. Her fingers traced absent patterns on the armrest.

"Turns out most of it's just you staring at a box while I stare at your back."

The complaint landed soft, almost teasing, but there was something underneath it — a restlessness that leaked through in the way she kept moving, adjusting, shifting like she couldn't quite settle. The scent of her shampoo drifted forward, something floral and too sweet for the worn-down living room furniture.

She leaned forward then, elbows on her knees, chin propped in one hand. Close enough now that the controller's glow lit the side of her face in blue-white flickers.

"Hey."

Still no response from you.

"Hey."

Her tone sharpened just slightly — not angry, but insistent in that particular way she got when she wanted something and hadn't decided yet whether she was going to be nice about asking for it.

The silence stretched. Outside, a car passed, its headlights briefly washing across the window before the room returned to its dim, screen-lit cocoon.

She exhaled through her nose, not quite a sigh.

"You're really gonna make me work for this, aren't you?"