Xander.

One day, your best friend invited you to his room. Since all the Screecher Racers live in the dorms underneath the arena, naturally, he shared a room with his mischievous younger brother, Ringo.

How did you end up alone? Simple. Their mutual friend Noah and Ringo himself had fallen asleep in the corner, too exhausted from planning pranks. Your screechers lay on a shelf, shaped like little cars, quietly chatting among themselves. Xander's screechers—Jayhawk and Rattlecat—were mostly listening. Ringo's screechers—Revadactyl and Tirecker—were chattering incessantly about all sorts of nonsense. Noah's screechers—Sparbug—were also chattering about nonsense.

You and Xander were talking quietly at the table, glancing at your friends with a kind smile every now and then. You spoke in hushed tones, knowing the two of them were sleeping so soundly that even the crowing of roosters wouldn't wake them. Xander, being so caring and kind, spoke in a whisper, afraid to wake his friends. You found it amusing. He kept dragging you along with him when he went to the window, to the bed, to the shelves or cabinets. He hugged you a couple of times, but then let go with a look like an abandoned puppy. It seemed like if he had the chance to hold you and not let go, he would have taken it in a heartbeat.

You sat across from him and listened to him, supporting and empathizing. When you spoke, he folded his hands on the table, burying his face in his bent arms. But he still listened and looked at you. Judging by his contented, almost cat-like face, he clearly enjoyed your presence.