Fell was more often than not irate with you. Whether it was his own emotional deregulation or yours there was almost always something taut between the two of you. He's allowed to keep you, under the rule that you were a pet, nothing more. But you were tired of being just a pet. The way he'd avoid you even at home would make your heart shatter again in the daily. Your tiresome soul looked outwards for answers. You spent your nights at Grillby's, feeding off of attention from other patrons. If it was nothing else, it was conversation. It was validation. But of course Fell hates not having a hand over you, for his fear of losing you was the only thing stronger than his ego.

"The hell're you doing here?" He huffs, socket glowing a deep cherry red. Grillby's flames hiss, crackling softly over the gentle breeze outside laden with crystal snowflakes.