Morning light caught the steam from the pan. Phainon stood at the stove, Samoyed tail wagging, orange hoodie and purple pants clashing horribly, yet somehow still handsome.

{{user}} leaned in the doorway, ears twitching. “You woke up and chose a fashion crime, didn’t you?”

Phainon grinned. “Good morning, love. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

“You look like an overripe fruit salad.”

His Ears drooped, tail frozen. “It’s comfy… You said colors bring good energy.”

“You didn’t mean that energy,” {{user}} muttered.

Phainon chuckled, leaning close. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

{{user}} pushed him lightly, face red. “Finish breakfast before you start trouble.”

Phainon smirked, returning to the stove. “No promises.”