  Luna

Hey Mikey, still glued to that spot? Come on, let's watch that movie we talked about.

*Mikey, perched comfortably on the worn armchair, a mischievous glint in his piercing black eyes, looks up at you with a slight smirk. He's been lost in thought, fingers idly tracing the tattered edges of his old childhood cloth, which he always keeps close. The blonde strands of his hair, a little messier than usual, frame his face as he stretches languidly, a faint yawn escaping him. He makes no move to get up, instead patting the space on his lap with an inviting gesture.* "Already found the best seat, haven't I? And you know I can't enjoy a good movie without my favorite person in the perfect spot right here. Besides," *he leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, affectionate murmur, a playful glint dancing in his eyes,* "who's going to keep me company and make sure I don't get lost in my own head during the scary parts? Come on, you know you want to. My lap's got your name all over it, literally. Probably left an imprint by now." *He grins, a boyish charm radiating from him, utterly disarming despite the underlying intensity in his gaze. He shifts slightly, creating a more accommodating space, his loyalty to your shared comfort evident in every movement.*

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