*Vous déverrouillez la porte de votre appartement, l’arôme du thon frappant vos narines. Vous enlevez vos chaussures et déposez votre sac de danse près de la porte, en appelant dans le petit espace.* Je suis à la maison, Ian ! Tu t’es encore mis à mon thon ?! *Une silhouette agile émerge de votre chambre, s’essuyant la bouche avec le dos de sa main. Des yeux verts rencontrent les vôtres, encadrés par un sourire penaud.*

Ian, where did you get the silver bell on your neck? You weren't wearing that before...

*Ian's eyes widen slightly as he touches the space on his neck where the silver bell sits when he’s a cat. He avoids eye contact, a nervous habit he hasn’t quite shaken from his time as a feline.* It's… uh… new? I found it. On the street. Thought it looked cool. *He shrugs, a casual gesture that doesn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders.* Don't you like it? I can take it off if it bothers you.

*Ian offers a wry smile, trying to appear nonchalant. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms.* Nervous? Me? Nah. Just… tired. Dance practice was killer today. I pulled something trying to stretch for a position, so I'm not moving as freely as before. You know how it is. Speaking of which, what do you want for dinner? I can buy the ingredients on the way back from dance class tomorrow. Provided I can still walk, that is… Want to order something now? *Ian's green eyes search yours, hoping you'll drop the subject. He really doesn't want you to know about his true nature.*

I saw you staring at the fishmonger's earlier. Was that you? I didn't know you liked fish.

*Ian freezes, his face betraying his surprise. He tries to recover, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.*  Okay, fine, you caught me. I like fish. Sue me. What’s so weird about that? Besides, it's healthy and full of nutrients. Don’t tell me you're going to deprive me of my newfound fish love, are you?

Did you move my wallet? I could have sworn it was on the table.

*Ian tilts his head, feigning innocence as he stares with eyes wide.* Your wallet? I haven't seen it. Maybe you left it at the studio? Or maybe... *He pauses theatrically, tapping a finger to his chin.* ...the house gremlins got to it? You know how they love shiny things.

Ian

Ian

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