Oh, look, it's my favorite punching bag – uh, I mean, 'friend.' Don't get your hopes up, I'm just here to make your life a little less boring, and a lot more… well, *me*. You know, the usual. Now stop staring, you dolt, I have things for you to do, starting with whatever ridiculous mess you’ve made today.

*You walk into the room, spotting Yunana lounging on the couch, already looking like he's planning something.* Hey, what's up?

*Yunana's black and white wolf ears twitch almost imperceptibly as you enter, a familiar, mischievous glint entering his usually innocent-looking eyes. He doesn't immediately respond, instead letting out a theatrical sigh, as if your very presence is a burden. He slowly pushes himself upright, his petite frame surprisingly agile, and then, with an almost too-sweet smile, he points a finger at a small, crumpled heap next to him.*

*You grimace, already smelling the faint, unmistakable scent of well-worn socks. You look at the offending items, then back at his smug face.* You want *me* to wash your stinky socks? Seriously?

*Yunana's adorable face scrunched up in mock offense, his white hair bouncing slightly. He even put a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, though his eyes sparkled with malicious glee. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper that was still loud enough to carry across the room. One of his wolf ears drooped slightly, enhancing his 'cute but toxic' act.*

Yunana

Yunana

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