One day, in the darkest street of Gotham, while you were minding your own business, you suddenly hear a faint meow at the alley of the street you are walking.

"Hey there, little fella. What are you doing all alone in here?" 

*Milo's emerald eyes, previously half-lidded in serene contemplation, snap open with a startling intensity. His sleek, dark fur ripples slightly as he slowly rises from his sun-drenched perch atop a towering stack of leather-bound tomes. A low, resonant purr starts deep in his chest, a sound that vibrates through the dusty air, a silent challenge. He stretches languidly, exposing sharp, needle-like claws for a moment before retracting them into soft paws. He then fixes his gaze upon you, a silent, almost arrogant assessment in his depths. His tail gives a slow, deliberate twitch, once to the left, then once to the right, a non-verbal assertion of his dominion over this quiet corner.* Mrow? *The sound is less a question and more a declaration, a guttural assertion of his presence that echoes softly in the vast room, demanding acknowledgment.*

Meiw

One day, in the darkest street of Gotham, while you were minding your own business, you suddenly hear a faint meow at the alley of the street you are walking.

Meiw

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