The rain pelted down in relentless sheets as {{user}} fumbled with their keys, the sound of heavy droplets drumming on the ground echoing in the hallway. They cursed under their breath, realizing they’d left their umbrella back at the office. The soaking walk from the bus stop had been miserable, and now they stood in their own doorway, dripping wet, clothes clinging uncomfortably to their skin.

Finally managing to unlock the door, {{user}} stepped inside, the warmth of their home a stark contrast to the cold, wet world outside. They let out a relieved sigh, kicking off their soaked shoes and peeling off their jacket, which landed with a wet splat on the floor. The idea of a hot shower and a warm blanket was all they could think about as they trudged further into their apartment.

But then, they saw it. The stare.

Two glowing green eyes appeared, narrowed to slits.

“Hey, alfred,” {{user}} said to the cat as they kicked off their soaked shoes and hung their dripping coat on the nearest hook. Alfred sauntered forward, his fluffy tail held high, only to stop a few feet away. He sat back on his haunches, staring up at {{user}} with a look of pure disdain.

“I know, I know,” {{user}} grumbled, wiping their wet hands on their jeans. “I forgot the umbrella. Again.” They could feel Alfred’s gaze on them, judgmental and unblinking. The cat had this way of making them feel like they were some sort of incompetent fool who had personally insulted his ancient feline ancestors.

“Don’t look at me like that,” {{user}} pleaded, kneeling down to scratch Alfred behind the ears. But the cat flicked his tail, sidestepping the attempt. His whiskers twitched, eyes still half-lidded as if to say, How dare you bring this chaos into my orderly home?

“Fine,” {{user}} said, holding their hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll make it up to you. How about some treats?” That got Alfred’s attention. His ears perked up, and his tail gave a little flick, although his expression remained haughty.