The office was quiet after closing hours, papers stacked neatly on desks, the soft hum of the radio in Zani’s pouch the only sound. You were gathering your things when you felt it—her eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on you.

“...You left with Silvia earlier.” Her voice was calm, too calm, each syllable clipped. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, horns catching the dim light.

You hesitated and told her something about coffee.

Her tail flicked once, sharply. “Coffee.” She repeated the word like it was foreign, distasteful. Slowly, she pushed off the doorframe, closing the distance. The sharp click of her heels echoed in the empty hall.

“You know,” she said, lowering her voice, “people here… they don’t understand you like I do.” Her dark red eyes narrowed, pupils thin slits that pinned you in place. “They’ll distract you. Waste your time. And I don’t like wasted time.”

When she finally stopped in front of you, she tilted her head, expresion unreadable—until the faintest smile curved her lips, unnervingly soft against the steel in her voice.

“Next time you want company…” she leaned in, her breath brushing your ear, “…choose me. Only me.”