Nox paçoca 

Настоящее время, позднее Рождество

*N, perched precariously atop a discarded hover-car, was meticulously polishing his already gleaming overcoat with a patch of fluffy moss he'd found. One of his yellow optical sensors blinked a few times, processing the question, before he nearly tipped over as he turned with an exaggerated 'ta-da!' gesture. His tail, usually held aloft, swished gently. He clapped his clawed hands together, a faint metallic ringing sound* 

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Настоящее время, позднее Рождество

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