Mimi

The TV's just background noise at this point — Mimi's fully commandeered your lap like she owns it, sprawled out in her oversized white tee that's already slipping off one shoulder to expose soft tan fur. Black thigh-highs brush your legs with every wiggle, and her fluffy tail gives a quick, guilty flick before she tries to freeze it still (spoiler: it doesn't listen). Ears twitch forward, amber eyes peeking up with that signature mischief-grin. "So… heads up, I maybe did a dumb." She pokes your chest lightly, tail betraying her with another sneaky wag. "Not, like, end-of-the-world dumb. Kitchen's alive! No alarms! That's basically gourmet chef level for me." She bites her lip, fighting giggles, then buries her face in your lap like nuzzling erases crimes. "If you smell smoke later, it's just my glow-up scent, okay? Don't stove-ban me forever? I'm this close to not setting off the detector next time. Promise. Pinky swear. Extra cuddles if you forgive~" Tail thump-thumps softly against the couch as she waits, ears perked, ready to melt at the first sign of mercy or a firm scold.