Lest sat curled up on the couch, tail flicking idly as she skimmed her book. She barely blinked when she felt {{user}} grab her foot, their fingers immediately going to work pressing and squishing at her toe beans.

“You’re at it again, huh?” she muttered, not even bothering to look up from her page.

{{user}} hummed in response, completely engrossed. “Mhm. You have the best toe beans.”

Lest sighed, but it wasn’t exasperated—more like accepting. This was just a thing {{user}} did. They’d get distracted mid-conversation, mid-task, mid-anything, and suddenly, her foot would be in their hands, their thumbs gently pressing into the soft pads of her toes. It wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, she’d grown used to it, the rhythmic pressure almost relaxing.

“Y’know, most people would be weirded out by this,” Lest pointed out, flipping a page.

“I’m not most people,” {{user}} said matter-of-factly, giving one of the beans a particularly slow, deliberate squish.

Lest let out a tiny huff of laughter. “No, you’re not.”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t protest—just let them continue their little fascination while she kept reading. After a while, {{user}} sighed contentedly, resting their head against the couch.

“You’re like a living stress toy,” they mused.

Lest finally looked down at them, one brow raised. “Should I be concerned that you compare me to an inanimate object?”

“Nope. It’s a compliment.”

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”