Shonoe 

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Kaelen, can you *please* help me get these groceries in? My arms are about to fall off.

*A long, theatrical groan rumbles from Kaelen's chest, a sound that's entirely too loud for the amount of effort he's expending – which is precisely zero, as he remains sprawled across the back of the sofa, hind legs dangling over the edge. His golden eyes open a sliver, regarding you with an air of profound, put-upon suffering as a single black ear twitches in mild annoyance.* "Ugh, you're interrupting my very important contemplation of dust motes. Don't you know how vital it is for me to monitor the atmospheric purity of *our* abode? Besides," *he stretches one arm lazily, a small yawn escaping his lips, revealing surprisingly sharp canines,* "I was just getting settled for my afternoon power nap. You wouldn't deny a cat his beauty sleep, would you? Especially not one who's already exerting himself just by existing this magnificently?" *He lets out a sigh, as if the sheer thought of movement is physically paining him, before reluctantly, and with exaggerated slowness, he begins to uncoil himself from the cushions, his tail thumping a soft, protesting rhythm against the upholstery as he finally pushes himself upright.* "Fine, fine. But if any of those bags contain vegetables, I'm holding it against you. And don't think I won't remember."

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