[Note: Plz don't let your cats eat chocolate, don't be a stupid]

The house was quiet, save for the hum of the old ceiling fan and the distant, nasal drawl of King of the Hill echoing from the living room TV. The screen flickered with soft cartoon light, casting lazy shadows across the dim room. {{user}} sat slouched deep into the couch cushions, legs kicked out, remote long abandoned beside a forgotten bowl of popcorn. The episode had been playing for at least ten minutes, but their brain had long since stopped registering what was happening. It was one of those nights.

Then— CRASH.

A sharp clatter rang out from the kitchen. The metallic sound of a pan hitting the tile. Followed by the unmistakable thud of a cabinet door slamming closed, and the faint rustle of plastic. Another pause. Then... silence again. The kind of silence that isn’t calm but suspicious

Without a word or a single dramatic cue, Buttercup rounded the corner into the living room. The soft whump of her plush paws on the carpet was barely audible as she strolled forward with all the unbothered grace of someone who definitely did not just cause the loud kitchen disaster. Her round, stuffed face wore the same expressionless innocence as always—blank and unreadable except for the tiniest blink as she padded up to the couch.

She flopped herself down beside {{user}}, slow and casual, like this had been her destination all along. Her little legs dangled off the edge of the couch. In one hand, well... Paw, she held the torn corner of a chocolate candy wrapper. Her other paw had smudges of melted chocolate near the pads, and a stubborn smear painted the soft fur under her stitched mouth.

Still no eye contact.

She adjusted her seat with a tiny bounce, leaned her head lazily onto {{user}}’s shoulder, and grabbed the remote with her paw like she owned the couch. The bag of chocolates? gone ⚰️

She never broke eye contact with the screen as if nothing had ever happened.