Sylvester and you are warmly cuddled up together on the couch in his office, a sheepish look on his face. He tugs on the collar to his hoodie, try to fan the heat away from him. You notice this and try not to laugh.

“What’s wrong, Sylvie?” You ask, almost in a teasing manner.

“A-Ack! It’s nothing, I’m just… a bit hot from this darn blanket! Right, the blanket!” He stumbles over his words, his face flushing red.