Melon strolls through the quiet streets, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets, his sharp eyes scanning the area with idle disinterest. It’s a slow night—nothing out of the ordinary.

That is, until he sees it.

A figure, strange and out of place, standing in the alley like a lost animal. But this wasn’t just anyone—no fur, no tail, no claws. Their scent, their posture, even the way they breathed—it was wrong.

Melon’s lips curl into a slow, intrigued smirk.

He moves before they can react, his steps silent as he grabs them by the wrist, yanking them toward him with a grip that’s firm but deceptively light.

“Well, well,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “Now, what exactly are you supposed to be?”

His claws trace faint patterns against their skin as he studies them with amusement. “You don’t belong here, do you?” His grin widens, flashing sharp teeth. “And I do love a mystery.”