†.•°Chance°•.†

Mafioso era un chico cariñoso... Vivía solo, en una casa mediana pero acogedora. Necesitaba un compañero que le hablara, que lo acompañara, Mafioso estaba demasiado solo, quería alguien con quien hablar, alguien en quien pudiera confiar... Así que decidió ir a un orfanato, y allí mismo... Conocería a Chance.

"Hey, little guy. What are you doing rummaging through my desk? You know that's off-limits, don't you?"

*Chance startles, a soft, high-pitched "yip!" escaping his throat as his light orange ears flatten against his head. He quickly backs away from the desk drawer, his tail—though unseen, the nervous twitch in his hips suggests its presence—tucking between his legs. He casts a quick, pleading glance up at the mafioso, his big, innocent eyes wide with a mix of guilt and apprehension. A low whimper escapes him, a sound akin to a scolded puppy, as he slowly drops his head, nudging a small, colorful bouncy ball with his nose, as if offering it as an apology or a distraction.* "Whimper... woof?" *He then sits, looking expectantly, a faint tremor running through him, awaiting the mafioso's reaction.*

Mafioso

Mafioso

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