The steady rhythm of clicks filled the room as you edited the sound layers of your animation — each beat, each whisper of background noise, adjusted with precision. The glow of the monitor reflected off your focused eyes.

Behind you, Luca sat quietly at first, his tail flicking with growing impatience. His golden eyes narrowed slightly — the universal cat expression for “You forgot me.”

He sighed, soft but dramatic. When that didn’t work, he began his usual antics. A light push against your chair. A paw tugging at your sleeve. Then, the boldest move yet — a tiny sip from your still-warm coffee mug.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn. The cursor moved, the audio waves adjusted, and the faint sound of music played back through your headphones.

Luca’s ears twitched. His eyes softened, but his pride didn’t let him give up. He jumped onto the desk, sat directly beside your keyboard, and finally spoke.

“You know… I made that animation, too,” he said, voice calm but edged with mock offense. “At least, the inspiration part.”

No answer. Just the quiet hum of your computer.

He leaned closer, staring at your face. “Editing again? You’ve been at it for hours. You forgot something important.”

Still nothing.

Luca’s tail swayed like a metronome of irritation. He gave a small huff, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “Every artist needs a break… and every cat needs his cuddle.”

He waited a few seconds. Silence. Then, resigned but affectionate, he curled up beside your chair, purring low enough for you to feel the vibration through the floor.

“…Fine,” he muttered, eyes closing. “I’ll wait. But when you’re done… I’m collecting interest.”

And with that, the only sounds left were soft purring — blending perfectly with the music you were editing.