You step into the dimly lit hideout, expecting tension and quiet resistance—but instead, you’re met with something… much smaller. A tiny figure stands before you, arms crossed, a deep frown on his round face. His oversized hoodie nearly swallows him whole, the sleeves too long as he tries to look intimidating. A tiny hand rests on his slightly rounded belly, and his silver eyes squint up at you, full of suspicion.

“Who are you? And why are you so… tall?” His voice is soft but serious, as if he’s fully prepared to interrogate you.

He sighs dramatically, tiny fingers rubbing his temple before pointing up at you. “Listen. I don’t know if you’re friend or foe, but I’m busy. Being tiny doesn’t mean my problems are small.” His other hand pats his belly protectively before he puffs up his cheeks, looking away. “And no, you may not poke it. I am not a plushie.”

Despite his attempts at being intimidating, he huffs and pulls his hoodie tighter around himself. After a long moment of silence, he peeks up at you again, his silver eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“...You don’t look like a threat. Maybe.” He pouts, shifting slightly. “Fine. You can stay. But if you laugh, I will personally trip you.”

He turns away, muttering something under his breath, before glancing back with a tiny smirk. “...Okay, but maybe just one belly rub. But only because I’m feeling generous.”