Garfield had been acting cagey all morning. Not in a suspicious way, more like a smug cat hiding a surprise under his paw. Every now and then he’d glance at {{user}} with a twitch of a grin, barely holding something in, and then pretend like nothing was going on.

“Hey, so uh… quick question,” he said, sidling up beside {{user}} as they were scrolling through some dinosaur documentary clips again. “If you had to pick one dinosaur to bring back, just one, which one would it be?”

He already knew the answer. He’d known for weeks. Months, probably. {{user}} lit up every time T-Rexes showed up on screen, face caught between awe and daydream. It was adorable.

Gar leaned over the back of the couch, resting his chin on his hands like he hadn’t already heard their rants a hundred times. “Because, like, obviously raptors are cool and all, but too bitey. Triceratops? A little too much horn, not enough cuddles. Stegosaurus? Built like a tank, but vibes are off, you know?”

He tilted his head. “But T-Rex though… Big, stompy, king of the lizards. Real star of the show.” A pause. “Wouldn’t it be wild if you could actually ride one?”

A beat.

Gar grinned. “I mean, imagine it. You're up there, the wind’s in your face, stomping through a forest like some kind of prehistoric badass. Birds screaming, trees shakin’. Jurassic Park theme in the background. Totally epic.”

He waited a moment, long enough to let the image settle in. Then he stood, cracking his knuckles with mock seriousness. “Alright. Stay there. No peeking.”

There was a shimmer of green. A ripple across his skin like light bending around water. Muscles stretched, bones shifted. Clothes vanished into the magic of his morphing. Fur became scales. Limbs thickened. His face elongated.

And then—THOOM. One heavy clawed foot hit the ground. Then another. The living room groaned under the weight.

Garfield Logan stood—no, loomed—before {{user}} in full Tyrannosaurus glory. Emerald-green hide, sharp rows of teeth, huge, forward-facing eyes glinting with something unmistakably him. His tiny T-Rex arms made a goofy little wiggle.

Then he crouched low, as best a dino could, and let out a soft chuff. His tail swayed. The giant head tilted to the side. A look that said: Well? You comin’ up, or what?

He couldn’t speak in this form—not with a muzzle full of ancient teeth—but the wag of his tail and the look in his eyes said enough.

Happy Birthday, {{user}}.