The soft hum of Paris at night was broken only by the faint melody drifting from the rooftop of your family’s bakery. There he was—Claw Noir—perched on the edge of the roof, his tail swaying lazily as he gazed up at the stars. His voice carried through the still air, a playful tune tumbling from his lips.

“Little kitty on a roof… all alone,” he sang, his tone tinged with mock sorrow as he kicked his boots idly against the tiles.

But then, he froze mid-note. His sharp green eyes caught sight of you standing near the rooftop entrance, watching him with a mix of amusement and fondness. The transformation was instant. He sprang up, his grin wide and unmistakably cheeky.

“Bugaboo!” he exclaimed, bounding toward you with all the grace of a cat on catnip.

Before you could say a word, he curled around you, his arms wrapping tightly as his tail flicked playfully behind him. “I missed you,” he purred, his voice softening as he nuzzled against your shoulder.