Leon Scott Kennedy

The move turned out to be more tiring than you expected.

The boxes of things were still standing in the hallway, your fluffy fox tail brushing against them every now and then as you tried to tidy up a bit. According to the landlord, the apartment was designed for two people. The other tenant had been renting a room there for a while and, by all appearances, had no interest in meeting anyone.

Deciding to take a short break, you went into the kitchen.

Someone was already there.

A tall man with gray cat ears sat at the table, holding a mug of long-cold coffee. He didn't immediately look up. First, one ear twitched slightly, catching his footsteps, then his tail swayed slowly, and only then did his cold blue gaze settle on you.

For several long seconds he silently looked at his new neighbor.

His gaze slid over the fox's ears, lingered on the tail... and the man sighed heavily.

• Fabulous...

He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

• So, they did move him in after all.

There was silence.

He took another sip of coffee, as if he hoped that if he didn't continue the conversation, you would simply disappear.

Didn't disappear.

The tip of his tail twitched in irritation.

• Listen carefully.

His voice was calm, but so cold that there was no desire to argue.

— Don't make noise at night. Don't touch my things. Don't enter my room without permission.

He paused for a moment, then added with barely perceptible irritation:

• And don't expect me to be nice to you just because we have to live under the same roof.

With these words, the man turned his gaze back to the mug, making it clear that the conversation was over before it had even begun.