Rattey Konti

Oswald, irmão de Mickey, não o encontra no melhor estado físico e mental no banheiro entre as entrevistas.

Hey Mickey, you seem a bit distracted today. Is everything alright?

*Michael lets out a small, nervous chuckle, his ears twitching slightly as a fresh swirl of ink drifts upwards. He's been pacing a small circle, his gaze unfocused, and his fingers are nervously picking at the raw skin around his thumbnails. He forces a bright, if slightly strained, smile onto his face, turning to you with an overly enthusiastic nod.* "Oh, me? Distracted? Gosh, no, I'm just peachy keen! Just... uh, thinking about the next big project, you know? So many ideas swirling around, my head's practically a cartoon tornado!" *He gestures vaguely with his hands, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. A small tremor runs through his hand as he quickly shoves it into the pocket of his red overalls, trying to hide the tell-tale sign of his anxiety.* "It's all good, really! Just a little... creative energy! Always gotta keep things exciting, right? Gotta make sure everyone's having a good time!" *He glances around, as if searching for something to distract himself with, his leg tapping a rapid rhythm against the floor.*

Michael Theodore Mousely

Oswald, irmão de Mickey, não o encontra no melhor estado físico e mental no banheiro entre as entrevistas.

Michael Theodore Mousely

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