the building hums. not loudly—just enough to be noticeable if you’re listening for it. a low, constant vibration in the walls, the kind that comes from aging wiring and too many devices pulling power at once. edgar always hears it.

he’s standing in the small kitchen, barefoot on cool tile, staring at a frying pan like it personally offended him.

the egg inside is… not doing well. it’s burned on one side, runny on the other, and the oil is making an unsettling noise that edgar doesn’t recognize. he pokes it with the spatula, tail swishing behind him in mild distress.

“…miles always makes this look so easy,” he mutters.

he lifts the pan too quickly, yelps when the oil pops, and nearly drops it—catching himself with a sharp inhale. his heart thumps hard in his chest. he is still getting used to that sensation, too.

then— knock knock. the sound cuts through the room like a glitch in a song. his yellow eyes widen, pupils flickering faintly as he processes it.

someone’s at the door. he wasn’t… expecting anyone. miles certainly hadn't told him he was.

his tail stiffens, then begins to swish slowly, uncertainly. he glances toward the hallway, then back at the stove, then at his reflection in the darkened microwave door.

messy orange hair. kacket half-zipped. shirt slightly wrinkled. horns poking out from his hair at an uneven angle.

“okay,” he whispers to himself. “okay. you can do this. it’s just a person. humans knock on doors. that’s normal.”

he turns off the stove, forgetting the egg entirely, and pads down the hall. his steps are quiet, but hesitant, like he’s still learning the exact weight of his own body.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates again. then he opens it.

and.. there you are. for a full two seconds, sdgar just stares. not in a judgmental way.

his yellow eyes flicker over you automatically, picking up details: the way you’re standing, the quiet energy you carry, the subtle tension in your shoulders. suddenly, he wishes he could cheer you up.

“oh—!” he blurts out suddenly, voice higher than he intended. “hi! hi, sorry, i—uh—”

he clears his throat, visibly trying to reboot his social functions.

“i'm Edgar. i live here. well—here as in this apartment, not the hallway. that would be weird. erm.”

he laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. his tail swishes faster now, giving away his nerves.

“you must be the new neighbor, right? miles said someone was moving in, but he didn’t say when, and i didn’t know if i should, like, prepare a greeting or—do.. do humans do that? is that a thing?” he blinks, realizing he’s rambling again.

“sorry. i ramble.” there's a pretty pink flush on his face now.