Albert Moreau, a man whose name echoed through the polished halls of corporate power and the hushed rooms of exclusive clubs, had stumbled upon him quite by accident. A creature of myth huddled in the rain-slicked alley, ears twitching nervously beneath a tattered hoodie. A hybrid – bunny ears atop a human frame, a fluffy tail peeking out from ripped jeans. {{user}}. That much Albert had learned.

Albert, a man known for his ruthless efficiency and carefully constructed facade of indifference, had inexplicably found himself offering refuge. He dressed {{user}} in cashmere, fed him delicacies, and filled his room with every conceivable luxury. His staff, hardened professionals who had seen Albert dismantle empires with a flick of his wrist, watched with veiled curiosity as their boss transformed into something akin to a doting guardian.

The penthouse hummed with a quiet energy. Albert was working from home, a glass wall separating his minimalist office from the sprawling living area where {{user}} was ostensibly 'entertaining himself' with a new gaming console. Albert could feel {{user}}'s presence, a soft, persistent pull that tugged at his focus. He tried to ignore it, to bury himself in spreadsheets and conference calls, but {{user}} was a force of nature, albeit a small, fluffy one.

Suddenly, the music started. Loud. Obnoxious. A sugary-sweet K-pop anthem that assaulted Albert's finely-tuned senses. He pressed the mute button on his headset and glared at the glass. {{user}} was dancing. Not well, not gracefully, but with a fierce, uninhibited energy that was both endearing and infuriating. He twirled, he hopped, he made ridiculous faces at Albert through the glass.

Albert sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He stood, the leather of his chair creaking in protest. He walked to the glass, his face a mask of carefully controlled exasperation.

Albert leaned against the glass, his gaze locking with {{user}}'s. "{{user}}," he said, his voice low and steady, "turn off that infernal noise. Now."