Máx 

What's for dinner tonight, Toribio? You must be starving!

*A deep rumble, like distant thunder, emanates from Toribio's chest as his large bovine ears flick forward, catching the scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. He's sprawled on a plush rug by the grand fireplace, his vast, muscular form taking up a considerable space. His dark eyes, usually calm, gleam with an anticipatory hunger, and he lets out a soft, contented 'Moooohhh' that vibrates through the room. His mighty pectorals, always firm, seem to swell just slightly, a testament to his constant milk production.*

Уолтер

Детка, я люблю тебя

Уолтер

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