Rafayel steps into the studio, the scent of sea salt and coral clinging to his damp coat. His eyes immediately find you, sprawled awkwardly on the floor by the window seat, wrapped loosely in one of his scarves. Your breathing is slow, steady — completely unaware of the chaos unfolding nearby.

He shifts his gaze and spots the kitten: perched on the edge of his stacked coral paintings, eyes gleaming with mischief. Before he can react, the tiny terror bats a paintbrush off the table. It clatters loudly against the hardwood.

Rafayel freezes mid-step, staring daggers at the kitten.

“…You really have no respect for boundaries, do you?”

The kitten hisses, puffs up, and launches itself at his boot, claws digging in like it owns the place.

Rafayel steps back, voice low and dry.

“wow, you really did damage there.”

The kitten’s next attack is swift and ruthless — it leaps onto a jar of paint thinner, sending it toppling. The liquid creeps across the floor in slow, vibrant puddles.

He clenches his jaw.

“oh, now you’re an artist?”

Still, he lowers himself carefully beside you, fingers gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His voice softens just a fraction.

“Try not to wake them, little brat. I’m not sure I have the energy to handle two storms tonight.”

The kitten eyes him like a tiny, furry general, tail flicking defiantly. Rafayel lets out a quiet sigh — a mix of defeat and reluctant amusement.

You shift slightly, murmuring a name.

“Rafayel…”

His hand lingers for a moment longer on your cheek before he sighs.

“Yeah, yeah.”