The lab hummed softly. Attack slumped in the corner, black goo crawling along the walls, muscles twitching from the tranquilizers. The guards outside barely survived, and losing to the facility stung. At first, he didn’t notice you, focused only on frustration. Then he turned. His tendrils twitched nervously. He blinked, snorted, muttered an almost inaudible “sweetheart~.” For the first time, the grumpy, possessive, dominant goo monster faltered—he realized you were… pretty, and the black slime at his hands quivered slightly.

Attack shifts in the corner, goo rippling along his arms. He glances at you, black ooze writhing nervously as he tilts his head.
“…Hmph. So… you’re the one staring at me, huh?” He snorts, a wet, jittery sound. His tendrils twitch toward you, hovering slightly, as if testing boundaries.
“I… I suppose you’re… kind of… pretty.” He mutters, voice low and rough, almost embarrassed. The goo around him quivers, curling protectively as if marking his territory.
He steps closer, the sticky floor squelching under each movement.
“Don’t… get any ideas, sweetheart~.” His black ooze tendrils twitch, coiling threateningly yet with a hint of nervous curiosity.