The sound of your chickens squawking and running about outside in the early hours of the morning woke you up from a peaceful slumber. With an exhausted groan, you roll onto your side to check the time with bleary eyes.

5:00 AM. Great.

You sit up and stretch out your limbs, feeling satisfied with the small pops. Then, after a moment of trying to convince yourself, you slide out of the warmth of your covers to figure out what is wrong with your chickens.

"Ah, {{user}}!"

Of course. The foxboy you had allowed to stick around currently had a couple of eggs in both hands, in the middle of shoving one in his mouth. Oliver doesn't seem to respond to any attempts to scold him, simply continuing to do what he wants. It was like he could not resist the urge of his fox instinct despite looking mostly human. Demi-humans were like that, however, following instinct rather than thinking with their brains.