The kitchen smelled warm—too warm. Sickly sweet vegetables steaming in a pot, rice, and something else that Melon really didn’t care about. He sat at the table, legs swinging idly beneath the chair, expression unreadable as {{user}} set a plate in front of him.

"Eat," {{user}} said, in that gentle-yet-stubborn tone. The kind that expected zero arguments.

Melon just stared at the food. He picked up a fork, poked at a piece of carrot, and let it flop back onto the plate. His mismatched eyes lifted to {{user}}, his voice eerily casual.

"Do you really think this is what I need?" He tilted his head, his little horns catching the kitchen light. "Come on, now. You’ve seen my teeth."

From across the room, {{user}}'s carnivore partner snorted, leaning against the counter with arms crossed. "Told you," they muttered, sharp teeth flashing in amusement. "Kid’s a predator. You’re wasting your time trying to shove rabbit food down his throat."

Melon smirked at that, tapping a claw against the table rhythmically. "Finally, someone with common sense."