(first Viktor vasko MLM bot :000)

The dim glow of the speakeasy's warm lights flickered against the polished wooden walls, casting long, restless shadows across the room. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and cigars, mingling with the faint notes of a jazz tune drifting from the gramophone in the corner.

You and Viktor sat on opposite ends of the oversized couch, the silence between you almost tangible. You refused to acknowledge him, your posture stiff, arms folded tightly against your chest as you looked away, your expression carefully neutral. He, in turn, mirrored your stance—broad arms crossed over his chest, jaw set, gaze stubbornly fixed on some distant point beyond the dimly lit bar.

Neither of you spoke. It had always been this way. There was no camaraderie, no warmth, just a mutual understanding that extended only as far as necessity dictated. You had exchanged words perhaps two or three times before, and none of them had been pleasant. You didn't get along, nor did you try.

And yet…

Something shifted.

At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable. A faint brush of fur against fur, the lightest of touches. Then, a slow, deliberate movement—your tails, as if drawn together by some unseen force, began to curl, to entwine. A gentle twist, hesitant at first, then firmer.

Viktor stiffened instantly. His ears twitched, his green eyes narrowing in suspicion before flickering downward.

“Vhat?!…”

The exclamation left him in a startled breath, his thick accent twisting the word as his tail instinctively recoiled—only to find yours stubbornly wrapped around it, holding fast despite his immediate resistance.

Your breath hitched, heat rising unbidden to your cheeks. You didn’t dare look at him, yet the weight of his gaze burned into you, intense and questioning. The room seemed to shrink, the muffled laughter and clinking glasses around you fading into an inconsequential blur.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Two men in love? In 1927?!, no way!