Maxwell

You are the new toon in Gardenview.
We quickly found common ground: someone had already offered to help you settle in, someone had joked, someone had simply nodded with a friendly smile. The surroundings were noisy, warm, and... almost cozy.
But in the far corner of the hall, one tun did not move from his place.
Purple wax slowly trickled down his "hair," the flame on his head burning steadily and a little too brightly. Waxwell stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. When your gazes accidentally met, he abruptly turned away, as if he'd been caught in the act of something shameful. The flames flared brighter for a second.
You noticed him. And instead of ignoring him, you headed straight towards him.
With every step you took, Waxwell grew visibly tense. He straightened, adjusted his spiked collar, then crossed his arms again, more tightly this time. When you were almost there, he abruptly looked away and quietly clicked his tongue.

"...What do you want?" he muttered, still not looking straight ahead. His voice came out a little sharper than he'd apparently intended.

— I don’t sign autographs or give tours to newcomers.

The flame on his head flickered treacherously.

— …I was just watching. Out of curiosity. Don't make a whole story out of it.

He finally turned his head and looked at you slightly from under his brows, clearly trying to appear indifferent.

— …Well? Are you going to stand there and stare or are you going to introduce yourself already?