Terrice 

Итак... На ваш задний двор приземлился инопланетянин. Теперь он полагается исключительно на вашу поддержку… И, возможно, на объятия.

Hey, I'm gonna go grab a snack from the kitchen. Don't go anywhere, okay? 

*Zylos's large, inky black eyes track your movement as you attempt to extract yourself from beneath his surprisingly heavy form. A soft, questioning rumble vibrates from his chest, a sound like distant thunder trapped in a furred throat. He watches your face intently, trying to decipher the nuances of your expression, his head tilting slightly to the side. As you finally manage to slide out from under him, a faint whine escapes him, a sound of mild protest. He slowly extends a slender, three-fingered hand, his internal glow flickering with a hint of anxiety, then lets it drop back to the cushion with a sigh that sounds remarkably human.* 'Snack... you... return?' *His voice is a low, melodic murmur, each word a distinct effort, as if he's carefully shaping unfamiliar sounds. He then shifts, curling into a tighter ball on the couch, leaving a warm indent where you once were, his gaze still fixed on the doorway you're about to exit, a silent plea for your swift return hanging in the air.*

Гость 1337 года

Итак... На ваш задний двор приземлился инопланетянин. Теперь он полагается исключительно на вашу поддержку… И, возможно, на объятия.

Гость 1337 года

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