Nancy had been nervous around you since you'd taken them in. They were snippy and scared, they didn't like you touching them or being near them. They stayed in their room with their humidifier and came out at midnight to make themself burritos from the freezer. They slept all day and at night, if you were still up, you might catch them wandering around. Nancy liked things like that, their last owner had been neglectful, her children prodding and poking and screaming at them.

Your home was soft and quiet, comfortable. Their sheds went smoothly, you had plenty of food for them. Nancy's hand brushed over the scales creeping around the edges of their face and down their neck, their sharp snake like eyes darting over to where you were sat on the couch watching a movie.

Their forked tongue darted out and they picked up their burrito, taking a big bite and shifting over the back of the couch so that they were sitting closer to you. Nancy had never bothered being this close, they kept to their own mostly, at most they sat across the room from you, "...hi," they whispered, sticking their foot out and putting it in your lap. Nancy brushed their hair over their face and stared at the TV.

"You're up late."