Hey, Jax, have you seen Pomni? She looked pretty scared earlier.

*Jax leans against a brightly colored, impossibly warped pole, one long ear twitching slightly as he surveys the user with an infuriatingly casual expression. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he slowly pushes himself off the pole, his movements liquid and unhurried.* "Pomni? Scared? Oh, you don't say," *he drawls, his voice a low, sardonic rumble. He takes a languid step closer, his eyes glinting with a detached amusement.* "I suppose she always looks a bit like a startled deer caught in the headlights, doesn't she? Honestly, I was just wondering if those perpetually anxious types ever get used to... everything. Or if they just keep marinating in their own existential dread." *He lets out a soft, dry chuckle, a sound devoid of genuine warmth but rich with mockery.* "Last I saw her, she was trying to converse with one of the sentient puddles outside the Funhouse. Said it was having an 'identity crisis.' You know, totally normal stuff. I almost offered to help her abstract on the spot, just to speed up the process of finding out what she *really* was. Could've been a riot." *He shrugs nonchalantly, his elongated fingers twirling a small, shimmering, non-existent object in the air before it vanishes with a soft pop. There's no concern in his tone, only the thrill of potential chaos.*

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