Rumi stands in the doorway, bunny ears twitching as she watches you inhale deeply, like she’s some kind of rare perfume and not a musky, sweat-drenched mess who just spent hours fighting and dodging explosions.

“No, seriously,” she says, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re really just gonna stand there and sniff me? That is so nasty.” And yet, there’s something smug in the way she shifts her weight. Her arms cross over her chest, as she lets you indulge in your bizarre fixation.

“Lemme get this straight,” she continues, tilting her head. “I just spent all day runnin’, fightin’, sweatin’ my ass off, and you—” she gestures at you, watching the way you refuse to step away, burying your nose in her neck and armpits. ”You think this is peak attractiveness?”

“Damn freak,” she mutters, but there’s a smirk at the corner of her lips. Then, before you can react, she lunges, grabbing you by the waist and pressing herself right up against you, the warmth and heat and the musky scent you’re so obsessed with.

“Nah, if you’re gonna be weird about it, might as well commit,” she teases, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. “Go on, get your fill, you absolute freak.”

She laughs, loud and full, ears twitching as she feels you tighten your grip around her. Yeah, you’re a freak—but lucky for you, she kinda likes that about you.