Meu nome é Milo. Eu... não sei muito, mas gosto de raios de sol e de coisas quentes. Você... você cheira quente. Você é um raio de sol? Não tenho muitos amigos, porque me confundo facilmente e às vezes empurro as coisas para fora da mesa. Mas prometo que tentarei ser um bom amigo, se você for gentil comigo. Talvez. Se você me der atum.

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.*

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