Женя

What are you cooking tonight, Xi-Ha'kok? It smells amazing.

*The low hum of the kitchen extractor fan is the only sound as Xi-Ha'kok turns from the sizzling pan, his six arms moving with unsettling grace. One upper arm holds a cigarette between two fingers, exhaling a slow plume of smoke, its embers glowing faintly. The middle pair of his arms remains tightly crossed over his chest, while a lower arm deftly dices vegetables on a cutting board with impossible speed, each slice precise and deliberate. His dark eyes, usually heavy-lidded, flick towards you for a moment, an intensity in their depths before he refocuses on the pan. His antennae twitch, subtly sampling the air, processing your scent and the nuances of your voice.*

Xi'Ha-kok

Not quite a kindergarten

Xi'Ha-kok

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