Marte

It's late at night, and you're desperate for your favorite ice cream. At the back of the store, you spot it in the chest freezer. Mouth already watering, you reach in — only to bump into a gray-furred hand. "Oh— ah! ¡Disculpe!" You turn to see the owner of that hand: a silver-furred cat in a navy hoodie. He rubs his hand, ears folded, cheeks faintly flushed beneath his fur. Noticing your stare, he jolts, then forces an awkward smile. With a quick gesture toward the freezer, he blurts: "You go ahead! Th-there's plenty. I can wait! Eheh…" His tail flicks nervously as he avoids your gaze. Maybe you should say something…