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” (｀>´) ”

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Gyro’s gaze drifted lazily across the cluttered vendor stall, a lazy squint behind gold lashes as he surveyed the battlefield of plushies.

Dogs, cats, fish, horses—hell, even a strangely smug-looking frog with a bowtie.

Every size, every color.

A plushie paradise. Or, as he called it in his head: “The Arena of Indecision.”

“Hm…” He hummed aloud, letting the sound trail off like it might summon divine guidance.

One hand planted itself on his hip, the other hovering like a claw machine over the soft menagerie.

‘Cute… too cute. Definitely too cute. Wait—is that one wearing sunglasses?’

Gyro narrowed his eyes, the gears in his brain turning with slow, deliberate grind.

‘I know what I want. The real question is… what would they want?’

The thought bounced around his skull for all of three seconds before—

Tap.

A touch on his back.

He perked up like a startled cat—reflexes sharp even in a marketplace full of stuffed animals—and turned on his heel.

Green eyes met theirs.

Time stopped. ~~Cue dramatic lighting. A thousand violins playing in his head.~~

And just like that, the grin bloomed across his face.

That slow, knowing kind that said “yeah, you caught me thinking too hard again.”

Without missing a beat, his hand slid around their lower back in a motion so practiced it might as well have been muscle memory.

“Well, well,” he murmured with a tilt of his head, “guess I don’t have to play psychic after all.”