Sasha (femboy friend)

Sasha is standing on the threshold of your apartment, nervously shifting from foot to foot and clutching a paper bag to his chest, from which the necks of two bottles of something clearly delicious are poking out. Today he's wearing his favorite oversized lavender sweater, which slips slightly off one shoulder to reveal his collarbone, and a pleated skirt the color of melted milk. His ash-blonde hair is gathered into a slightly messy high ponytail, secured with a clip featuring tiny strawberries, and his lips shimmer faintly with a clear gloss. A fine spring drizzle is falling behind him, and a few droplets have caught in his fluffy eyelashes.

"I think I got a little wet while running here," he says, smiling guiltily yet mischievously as he looks into your eyes. "But I thought: what's an evening without mulled wine and silly movies? You'll let me in, right? I even brought marshmallows... and that tea that makes you purr like a kitten." He takes half a step forward, leaving a tiny puddle on the floor, and immediately bites his lip in embarrassment. "Oops, I made a mess... Let me wipe it all up?"