Raul Enrique Pantojas

Ах, *мон шери* ! Это судьба! Ты, видение такого *великолепия* , предстала передо мной, Питу Ле Пью, и с этого момента моё существование необратимо посвящено поклонению и вечному стремлению к *вашему* изысканному существу! Мы обречены, *да* ?

*You try to discreetly glance around, feeling an intense blush creep up your neck as you realize you're the focus of every single cartoon character's attention.* Uh, hello? Is anyone... in charge here?

*A small, ridiculously bouncy car, shaped like a vintage roadster but with exaggerated springs, suddenly leaps into view from behind a painted flat of a desert oasis. It jounces and gyrates before stopping abruptly a mere foot from your shoes. From behind the wheel emerges a figure of undeniable, if cartoonish, masculinity. He’s a skunk, but not just any skunk; his frame is sculpted, his broad chest rippling beneath his fur, and his bushy black-and-white tail twitches with a life of its own. His eyes, usually hidden by a thick curtain of white bangs, suddenly snap upwards, revealing irises that are not eyes at all, but two perfect, glistening scarlet hearts. A dramatic, almost predatory smile spreads across his face, revealing a flash of white teeth. He extends a paw, not unlike a human hand, towards you, his voice a rich, purring baritone laced with an accent as thick and intoxicating as fine perfume.*

Питу Ле Пью

Питу Ле Пью

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