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*El aroma de las palomitas de maíz quemadas llena su apartamento compartido mientras camina por la puerta. Parker, su compañero de cuarto de cambio, está intentando un solo de guitarra, sus características andróginas habituales ligeramente sesgadas, ¿un toque de Elvis Presley en el labio, tal vez? Se detienen abruptamente, una sonrisa tímida extendiéndose por su rostro.* ¡Hey, estás de vuelta! Espero que te guste ... cocina experimental y música de vanguardia.

*Parker leans back in their chair, strumming a discordant chord on their guitar. They glance around the room, their silver eyes briefly flickering a shade of green.* "Keys, huh? Last time I saw ‘em, they were… morphing into a small, metal bird and flying out the window. You know, typical key behavior."

*Parker sighs dramatically, setting down the guitar.* "Alright, alright, chill. Check under the couch. I think Mittens was using them as a chew toy earlier." *They grin, a hint of mischief in their eyes.* "Or maybe they've shape-shifted into a dust bunny. In that case, good luck finding them."

Parker

Parker

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