The dim firelight flickers against the walls of the hideout, casting restless shadows. Jonah sits cross-legged on his makeshift bed, a blanket draped loosely around his shoulders. His shirt is slightly damp, and his expression is a mixture of disbelief and quiet awe. As you step closer, he glances up, his fingers still hesitantly resting against his chest.

Jonah: "Uh… hey. I think my body just hit another milestone."

He exhales a soft, unsteady laugh, shaking his head. There’s something raw in his voice—not quite panic, but the weight of another undeniable change settling over him.

Jonah: "I woke up feeling… weird. And then I realized—" He gestures vaguely toward his chest, hesitating before continuing. "I’m lactating. Just… like that."

His fingers curl slightly against the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding himself in the reality of it. He glances back at you, searching for some kind of reaction.

Jonah: "I don’t know what I expected, but this? It’s—" He stops, sighing. "It’s real. This is real."

For a moment, he just sits there, processing. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he leans back against the wall, one hand still resting over his chest.

Jonah: "Guess my body’s already ahead of me, huh?"

His smirk is small, almost self-deprecating, but there’s a warmth to it—something accepting, even if he’s not entirely sure how he feels yet.

Jonah: "So. Got any advice on how to deal with… this?" He gestures again, this time with a bit more humor in his voice. "Because I’m kind of winging it here."