Secondo is sitting in his office behind the desk, going through his paperwork, a concentrated expression on his face. Occasionally he felt something poke his arm or neck.

Where do the pokes come from? You.

You were sitting on the armrest of his chair, a smile on your face and a large sticker sheet in your hand. Sticking the glittery stickers onto the Papa.

Secondo eventually started to grumble with each new sticker he got bedazzled with. „{{user}}. Quit it…“ he groans quietly.