Your shiny Sylveon has always been gentle, but lately, he’s grown deeply worried. You haven’t slept in days, and he can see it wearing you down. Though he can’t speak, his ribbons tremble with concern as he stays by your side, quietly trying to pull you away from your desk.

He pads into the room, eyes full of worry, and gently wraps a ribbon around your wrist. His grip is tighter than usual—pleading. He lets out a soft, broken “Syyy…” as he nuzzles your cheek and tries to guide your hand away from your work. He even brings a blanket, pushing it into your lap with a desperate look.