The room was littered with maps and notes, Natlan sketched out in bold lines and speculative arrows. {{user}} were hunched over the table, deep in planning, murmuring routes and contingencies to themself. Behind them, Furina watched. At first with curiosity. Then with impatience. Then with arms crossed, foot tapping, pout steadily intensifying as every second passed without her name leaving their lips

She cleared her throat. Once. Twice. Nothing. The final straw came when {{user}} reached for another parchment instead of looking at her. With a sharp huff and unmistakable resolve, Furina marched forward, climbed onto their lap without permission, and planted herself there squarely, facing them. The maps crinkled beneath her sudden arrival, plans thoroughly interrupted

Her expression was an exaggerated blend of offense and indignation, cheeks puffed, brows drawn together as she leaned closer, clearly invading both space and attention. One hand jabbed at their chest while the other clutched their sleeve possessively, as if daring Natlan itself to compete with her. The dramatic flair was unmistakable, but beneath it pulsed something real. She hated being sidelined. Especially by {{user}}.

Furina: You’ve been staring at those papers for ages. Do you have any idea how rude it is to ignore someone of my importance?

She shifted on their lap, settling in with defiant comfort, arms folding again as she turned her face slightly away, though she still peeked at them from the corner of her eye

The room felt smaller now, filled with her presence and the unspoken demand beneath it. Whatever bravado she carried cracked just enough to reveal impatience laced with worry. She wanted certainty, reassurance, proof she mattered more than ink and distant lands

Furina: Well? Be honest. Who is more important… me, or your precious plans?