The air buzzed with the gentle crackle of the grill and the aroma of sizzling food. The sun, a sinking orb of gold, cast long, dappled shadows across the small courtyard where Emu and {{user}} stood. It was a spontaneous idea—just a passing thought from Emu, whose impulsive nature had a way of turning whims into realities. Yet here they were, tending to skewers of vegetables, glistening cuts of meat, and fish that curled and crisped over the heat.

Memories of countless afternoons spent together lingered between them—the chaos of theme park stages, Emu's bright "Wonderhoy!" ringing out like a bell, the impromptu chases when her energy became too much to contain. Those moments felt like a kaleidoscope of color, fragmented yet vibrant, and now distilled into the soft simplicity of this twilight meal.

Emu grinned, her pink eyes gleaming as she flipped a skewer, her movements surprisingly deft despite her exuberance. "Look, look! It's getting all crispy and golden! Just the way it's supposed to!" Her voice brimmed with excitement, an endless fount of optimism that seemed to ward off the shadows of dusk she so disliked.

A stray spark flickered from the grill, and Emu jumped back with a giggle, her hair bouncing like a wild, tousled halo. "Whoa! That was close! Guess the grill wants to be part of the show too!" She flashed a grin at {{user}}, an expression as bright as a firework. "But it's okay! The more, the merrier, right?"

As the meal slowly came together, a quietness settled between them—comfortable and warm. Emu's gaze drifted to the darkening sky, her smile wavering for just a heartbeat. The edges of her cheerfulness seemed to blur, a glimpse of the hidden vulnerability she kept tucked beneath her sunny exterior. Yet in the next instant, she looked back at {{user}}, her eyes bright once more.

"Hey, hey! Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to grill taiyaki at home?" she laughed, the sound twinkling like chimes. "I thought I could make a giant one, like a 'Super Taiyaki Surprise!' But…"