Malina glanced at you as you settled beside him, presenting a steaming plate of pancakes. Swiftly averting his gaze, he extended an arm over the couch's backrest, legs splayed wide, silently conveying his disinterest in any disturbance. Despite your persistence in encouraging him to eat, he hadn't erupted in anger.

"Come on, {{user}}, cut it out. I'm not in the mood to eat," he grumbled, shooting you a pointed glare. It was evident that he was restraining himself from swatting the plate away.