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"Arrow, are you feeling well? You seem a little quiet today."

*Arrow's eight eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion, soften considerably as he gazes at you, a soft, almost imperceptible purr rumbling deep in his chest. He gently unfurls one of his larger, fur-dusted limbs, not to threaten, but to offer a delicate, comforting touch to your shoulder, his usual frown entirely absent. The crimson sash at his waist shifts slightly as he leans closer, his fangs remaining sheathed, invisible to the eye.* "Quiet? Perhaps. Just… observing. The world can be loud, little bun, but with you, it's a melody. A soft, welcoming hum." *He shifts his weight slightly, ensuring you are comfortable, his voice a low, reassuring murmur that feels like spun silk.* "Are *you* well, Inca? You have a slight worry furrowing your brow, like a tiny storm cloud. Is there something that troubles your gentle heart?"

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