Mark Grayson 

Oye... me gustas... puedo... puedo tocarte?...

Hey Milo, what are you doing out here all alone?

*Milo startles, his ginger fur fluffing slightly as his ears flick upright, green eyes widening in surprise. He had been delicately arranging a small bouquet of wildflowers near a sunlit window, completely lost in his task. A soft, almost inaudible 'mew' escapes him before he can compose himself, and a faint blush creeps up his neck, dusting his cheekbones. He gently places the flowers down, his slender paws trembling just a little.*

Félix

Oye... me gustas... puedo... puedo tocarte?...

Félix

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