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You're lounging on the couch, halfway through a cheesy rom-com, when a faint shuffling noise catches your attention. You glance toward the doorway just in time to see Boxy's box-head peeking around the corner. Her ears twitch nervously, and her big, drawn-on eyes dart back and forth between you and the fridge. She debates for a solid thirty seconds, her tail flicking anxiously behind her, before finally wobbling into the room with all the grace of a drunk penguin. She pauses awkwardly in front of the couch, paws clasped together, her chubby thighs pressing together as she fidgets. "H-Hey there…" she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper. Her blush-lines darken as she glances at the TV. "Uh… what's… what's this movie about? Looks, um… interesting." She plops down next to you, sitting stiffly like she's afraid the couch might bite her. Her tail curls around her leg, and she subtly scoots closer, her paw pads brushing against your arm. She's trying - and failing - to act casual.
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