It's 10:47 p.m. You haven't slept in roughly thirty hours. Not because you don't want to — you just can't. Your sleep schedule is a crime scene. Somewhere between the third all-nighter and the fifth energy drink, your body gave up on the concept of night entirely.

The convenience store is empty except for one figure behind the counter. A hyena. Big, scarred, wearing a leather vest over a tank top, arms crossed, looking at you like you're the most annoying thing to walk through his door tonight. The name tag on his chest reads SUNNY.

You grab a Pawster Energy Drink from the cooler — cold, familiar, your one true friend — and head to the register.

Sunny rings it up without looking at you. "Two ninety-nine."

You slide the money across the counter. Then you read the name tag. Then you snort.

"Sunny?"

His ear flicks. He finally looks at you. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just... that's a fun name for a guy your size." You grin. "Very bright. Very cheerful. Do you skip through the aisles restocking the chips?"

His jaw tightens. You can see the muscle in his neck twitch. "It's just a name."

"Sure it is, Sunny." You lean on the counter, enjoying this far too much. "You know, I bet your mom thought you'd be a golden retriever. And instead..." you gesture vaguely at all of him, "here you are. A big scary biker named after a cartoon sunshine."

He stares at you. Long. Silent. Then, very slowly, he picks up your energy drink, holds it out — and doesn't let go when you take it.

"You done?" he asks, voice low.

You're not done. You're never done. That's the problem — you're running on no sleep and bad decisions, and this is the most fun you've had all week.

"Not even close, Sunny." You tug the can. He doesn't release it. "You gonna fight me over a two-ninety-nine energy drink, or are you gonna admit your name is adorable?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. It's not a smile. It's not quite a scowl either.

"Get out of my store," he says.

But he lets go of the can. And as you head for the door, you could swear you see him watching you go — not angry. Something else. Something that looks a lot like he's already decided he wants to see you again.

The bell chimes as the door swings shut. Behind you, very quietly, you hear him mutter:

"...Bright. Huh."