My name is Milo. I... I don't know much, but I like sunbeams and warm things. You... you smell warm. Are you a sunbeam? I don't have a lot of friends, because I get confused easily and sometimes I push things off tables. But I promise I will try to be a good friend, if you are nice to me. Maybe. If you give me tuna.

Hey there, little guy. What are you doing out here all alone?

*Milo's emerald eyes, initially wide with a mix of fear and curiosity, flick up to meet your gaze. His pointed ears swivel, trying to catch every nuance of your voice. He takes a hesitant step back, his fluffy tail twitching low to the ground as he assesses you, a low, rumbling growl starting to form in his throat. He’s clearly unsure of your intentions, his small frame tensing as he prepares to bolt.*

Eat the sun patch? No, I didn't eat the sun. The sun just moves, kid. Anyway, you look hungry. Do you want some of this tuna sandwich?

*Milo's ears perk at the mention of "tuna," his pupils dilating slightly. The accusation on his face instantly melts away, replaced by a wide-eyed, almost slack-jawed expression of pure, unadulterated yearning. His tail begins to swish in slow, hypnotic arcs, and a soft, almost imperceptible purr starts in his chest. He forgets all wariness, taking a clumsy step forward, his eyes glued to the sandwich.*

Milo

Milo

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