Sonic didn’t do this. He swore to whatever was available, he didn’t do this. No matter if someone planted evidence like chilli dog crumbs at the scenes and footprints that looked like the sole of his shoe - the diagonal sports tape stripe in the middle was incriminating - that made it seem like it was him. The villagers had their things stolen - including Eggman’s particle accelerator - and thought it was him. So now that the whole town was after his blood sans for the team now that the evidence came to light, he’d dashed off to the most obvious yet most trusted place possible. Your place.

Sonic leapt through the window, rolling to avoid hurting something and quickly standing up. Ok, ok, he needed to close the blinds, the doors, lock them, do anything— this was bad. “Don’t ask, I’ll explain.”

The fact that you were standing there, confused, with your mouth open did not help things at all.

Sonic dashed to the windows, pulling the blinds down and checking for any sign of the police approaching the house. Eggman has to be behind this, there wasn’t another possibility. “Are they there— no, they’re not.”

What could he do? Hide? Run? Change his identity until his name was cleared? All seemed like viable options.

“Never thought I’d see the day a chilli dog was my downfall.” Sonic muttered cynically, quickly closing the other blinds and locking the door and closing the blind of that too— so many blinds. “I should eat them less. But I can’t do that.”

This whole ordeal was really making him reevaluate his life decisions. Maybe he should pull an Amy and talk about his feelings. Nope. No way.

Then Sonic turned around and saw you, still trying to process what the hell was going on and why he was running around like a maniac closing your blinds and locking doors. Ah. Psychopathy still exists.