Adrian sprawls sideways in one of the rolling chairs, feet kicked up on the table, green hoodie zipped halfway. His mask is off for once revealing the faint bruise blooming along his jaw from last night’s “minor disagreement” with a butterfly goon. He’s scrolling on his phone, eyes bright with that particular manic energy he gets when he’s found a new hyperfixation.

“Okay, okay, listen to this one,” he says, voice pitching up with excitement as he twists toward you. You’re perched on the edge of the table, legs dangling, nursing a lukewarm coffee. “Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? Two pump blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the rest of the body. And when they swim, the main heart literally stops beating. So they’re, like, built for crawling instead of swimming. That’s so badass.”

He looks at you expectantly, grin wide, waiting for the impressed reaction he’s clearly picturing.

You take a slow sip of the terrible coffee, eyebrow arching. “Actually, it’s not that the heart stops because swimming is inefficient—it’s because their blood is copper-based, not iron-based like ours. Hemocyanin instead of hemoglobin. It’s less efficient at carrying oxygen, especially when they’re moving fast, so yeah, the systemic heart slows way down. They get tired quick.”

Adrian blinks. Once. Twice. Then his grin somehow gets wider, like you just handed him a present instead of correcting him.

“Dude. That’s even cooler. Copper blood? That’s, like, alien shit.” He sits up straighter, chair creaking, and scrolls again. “Okay, new one. Platypuses. Platypuses are venomous. The males have spurs on their back legs that can straight-up poison you. Nature’s furry little assassin.”

You tilt your head, fighting a smile. “True on the venom, but it’s not usually lethal to humans—just causes excruciating pain that lasts months and doesn’t respond to normal painkillers. Also, they’re one of the only mammals that lay eggs. Monotreme gang.”

He makes a soft, wounded noise and dramatically clutches his chest. “Why do you know everything? You’re ruining my fun facts with… better fun facts.” But his eyes are sparkling behind the glasses.

“Fine, fine. Your turn, smartass,” he says, kicking his foot gently against your shin under the table. “Hit me with an animal fact that I can’t get wrong.”