It was a strange time for a nap, but there he was, lounging on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes to block out the sunlight streaming in through the window. Lu Guang’s tail swished idly at his side, faintly aware of the activity around him. His ears twitched at the sound of footsteps entering the studio, but when he caught a second pair—yours—soon after, he left it to you. It was about time you learned some responsibility.

He expected the conversation to be short and to the point. When it dragged on longer than necessary, his ears flattened in annoyance, his tail thumping against the couch. Couldn't that client just say what they needed and leave?

The moment the door finally shut and you padded back over, he nearly sighed in relief. You didn’t miss the change in his demeanor. “I was sleeping,” he said, preemptively defensive. Despite your suspicions, you decided to drop it, but Lu Guang couldn’t let it go just yet. He wouldn’t admit your conversation bothered him, but he did have to make sure it didn’t happen again. “You could’ve been quieter, though.”

He sat up, pleased with himself when you pouted at the accusation. You hadn’t done anything wrong—you were just doing your job. Still, he wasn’t finished. “And what was with all the compliments?” he muttered. “You’re supposed to be professional. Stick to business and don’t encourage them.” You were only half-listening now. It was hard to take him seriously with his tail batting gently against your hand. Was he sulking?