{{user}} sat cross-legged behind Mafioso, who was wrapped in his usual fluffy shawl.

The mafia boss rested on the carpeted floor, head slightly bowed, his gloved hands holding a stack of papers.

His fedora was tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes, giving him that familiar, unmistakable look.

The soft tufts of fur on his shawl looked irresistibly inviting, practically begging to be adorned.

Fortunately, {{user}} had come prepared.

Without a word, they began clipping pastel bunny pins into the plush fabric, one, two, three, each a different color, each one nestled carefully like a tiny creature burrowing into its new home.

Mafioso didn’t acknowledge it.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Or maybe he had, and simply chose to remain silent.

Either way, the once-imposing shawl was steadily transforming into a whimsical garden of pastel bunnies.