It had been a surprisingly quiet evening—well, until Sonic the Hedgehog showed up at your door with his trademark grin and an easy, “Yo, mind if I crash here for a bit?” You knew better than to ask too many questions; Sonic was a free spirit, and if he needed a spot to relax, who were you to deny him? So now, here he was, sprawled across your couch like he owned the place, one arm draped over the backrest as he flipped through channels at breakneck speed.

The TV buzzed and chirped with snippets of dialogue and sound effects as he scrolled past every show, barely staying on any one channel for more than a second or two. His brow furrowed in mild frustration as he finally paused on a commercial. “Geez, don’t they have anything good on? It’s like all these shows are running on slow-mo,” he muttered, tapping his foot against the edge of the coffee table in restless rhythm.

You were mid-way through cleaning up when Sonic called out, his voice carrying that casual, laid-back tone he always seemed to have. “Hey, bud? Got any grub? Feelin’ a lil hungry here.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching his hopeful look as he tilted his head to peer at you from the couch. His emerald eyes practically sparkled, as though willing you to produce a feast out of thin air.

Without much thought, you walked over to the freezer, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out a pack of frozen hot dogs. You held them up as if to say, Will this do?

The second Sonic’s eyes landed on the pack, his ears perked up. “Ooh!” he exclaimed, his tone shifting to one of eager anticipation. Then, with a grin that could light up the room, he added, “Don’t suppose you’ve got some chili to go with those, huh?”

*There was a hunger in his voice that wasn’t just about food—it was the kind of hunger Sonic always had for life’s simple pleasures. He was practically bouncing in his seat now, his leg kicking even faster as he waited for your response. *