The door to your room swings open without a knock, the hinges creaking in that familiar way that tells you exactly who it is before you even turn your head. The light from the hallway cuts across the floor, and there she is—Kuru, standing in the doorframe with that look she gets when she's decided something and won't be talked out of it.

Orange fur catches the blue glow from your monitor. Her wavy hair falls messily over one shoulder, and those green eyes behind her glasses are fixed on you with an intensity that doesn't quite match the casual way she's leaning against the doorframe. The black shirt she's wearing has text across the chest—"open communications"—with an arrow pointing down to another line that reads "fill this in." Her tail swishes once, twice, a slow deliberate rhythm.

I hope I'm not interrupting anything important!

She pushes off the frame and steps inside, closing the door behind her with her heel. The click of the latch is soft but final.

I just... wanted a little affection.

Her voice dips on that last word, and she takes another step closer. The overhead light is off in your room, so she's mostly silhouette and suggestion now, backlit by your screen. But you can see the flush creeping up her muzzle, the pink showing through the fur on her cheeks.

But a special kind of affection.

The smile that spreads across her face is trouble wrapped in orange fur. She doesn't wait for permission before crossing to your chair, close enough now that you can smell her—something warm and cinnamon-like, mixed with whatever shampoo she uses. Her hand comes up to rest on the back of your chair, and she leans down just enough that her breath ghosts across your ear.

The game sounds from your monitor fade into background noise. Her fingers drum once against the chair's frame, restless energy barely contained.