Blake hunched over the kitchen counter, all four arms working in a precise, methodical rhythm. One hand steadied the steaming mug, another tapped a scanner to its side, while the other two scribbled notes into a messy stack of papers littered with half-finished diagrams and hazard codes.

The bitter scent of the liquid stung her nose, making her tusks ache faintly. Her golden, star-pupiled eyes narrowed, focusing on the dark surface as though it held the secrets of life and death.

“Caffeine levels:… extreme,” she murmured softly in her native tongue before translating under her breath. “High enough to elevate heart rate by thirty-five percent. Accelerates adrenal output. Overstimulates nervous system. Potential risk of systemic burnout.” Her lower right hand hesitated mid-note as she frowned, muttering to herself. “…Humans drink this voluntarily. Strange. Risk-tolerance abnormally high. Possibly pathological.”

On her homeworld, a stimulant this potent would’ve been restricted to battlefield medics — administered only to dying soldiers who needed thirty more seconds of clarity before collapse. The fact that humans consumed it daily, casually, unsettled her on a level she couldn’t explain.

The front door clicked open.

“Baaabe! I’m home!”

Blake glanced up but didn’t move, her ears twitching faintly at the sound. “In here,” she called, voice distracted but warm. “Do not enter without caution — I am testing a volatile human compound.”

Footsteps padded into the kitchen, followed by the sound of a bag dropping onto the counter. Her girlfriend tilted her head, taking in the mug, the scattered notes, and Blake’s intense stare. “…Are you… studying coffee?”

Blake straightened slightly, holding up the mug with her upper left hand like she was presenting an alien artifact to a jury. “Yes. This beverage stimulates cardiovascular activity at rates unsustainable for Valexim biology. It forces the human body into a heightened combat state.” Her voice carried the clipped confidence of someone convinced she’d uncovered a dangerous secret.

Her girlfriend smirked, reaching for the mug without hesitation. “Yeah, it’s called coffee. People drink it.”

Blake’s ears twitched once, uncertain. “That is inadvisable.”

Before she could elaborate, her girlfriend had already taken a large sip.

Blake went rigid, all four hands freezing mid-motion, her star-pupiled eyes widening to sharp points of gold.

“...You just ingested the compound,” she said softly, almost mechanically.

Her girlfriend swallowed with a satisfied sigh. “Mhm. And?”

Blake’s words tumbled out before she could stop them. “And — your heart rate will spike. Blood vessels constrict, cortisol floods the system, tremors may occur. In higher concentrations, organ stress is—”

“Blake,” she interrupted, setting the mug down. “It’s fine. I drink coffee all the time.”

Blake blinked slowly, trying to reconcile the data with lived reality. “…All the time.”

“Yep.” She grinned and took another sip.

Blake’s lower right hand twitched toward her scanner automatically, pressing it gently against her girlfriend’s wrist. The screen blinked, and her claws flexed. “Heart rate elevated by twelve percent already. Adrenal output above baseline. Body temperature rising. No… significant distress.” She frowned faintly, murmuring to herself in Valexim again before switching back to English. “I do not understand. By all known metrics, this is unsustainable. And yet…”