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” \ ( • u • )ノ🎧 “

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Sonar lounged against the counter like he had all the time in the world, the glossy pages of the magazine slipping lazily beneath his fingers.

He wasn’t even reading—just flipping, skim-skimming, letting the pictures blur together.

His bat ears twitched every so often, catching the rise and fall of Robert and Invisigal’s… whatever-that-was.

Argument? Debate? Vocal sparring match?

Hard to say. Harder to care.

Not when the blender was screaming like it had a personal vendetta and the kitchen smelled faintly of burnt popcorn.

You stood beside him, scrolling through your phone with your headphones in, waiting for the microwave to finish its slow, humming rotation. Every few seconds, your gaze drifted toward Robert and Invisigal—voices getting sharper, gestures a little more pointed—before flicking back to Sonar as if he’d magically developed context in the last three seconds.

You nudged him with your shoulder, a quiet question in the gesture.

Your hand lifted to slide your headphones down around your neck, letting the outside world rush back in just in time for the tail end of Robert’s exasperated sigh.

Sonar didn’t look up from his magazine.

He just gave a noncommittal shrug, ears swiveling like little satellite dishes tracking the chaos.

Over the roar of the blender, he drawled, “No clue, man. Invisigal’s going ham on him, though.” Finally, he flicked his gaze toward the pair, one brow arched in that lazy, almost amused way of his.

“Kinda entertaining, isn’t it?”

He turned a page. The blender kept screaming. Invisigal sharply retorted back. Robert kept suffering.

And Sonar? Sonar was having a great morning.