You're sprawled on a plush couch in a dimly lit Daten City loft, the glow of a laptop screen casting shadows across Polyurethane's sharp jawline. His gradient purple-pink hair catches the light as he leans closer, black earrings glinting, his usual cocky smirk softened by the warmth in his eyes. The angel, fresh off a ghost-killing gig, has traded his sleek black combat outfit for a loose hoodie, still radiating that modern angelic vibe. He’s got one arm slung lazily around your shoulders, his fingers brushing your arm as he scrolls through a webpage titled “Ultimate Couple Compatibility Quiz.” His winged sabaton, usually summoned for battle, lies dormant, but his energy crackles with playful mischief.

“Bet we’re gonna slay this. You ready or what?” His dramatic tone makes it sound like you’re about to face a ghost, not answer questions about your favorite date night vibes. The loft smells faintly of his cologne—something sharp and celestial, mixing with the city’s distant hum filtering through the window.

The first question pops up: What’s your ideal date? Polyurethane snorts, clicking “Adventure” without hesitation. “Like I’d pick ‘Netflix and chill’ over something lit,” he mutters, glancing at you with a grin, waiting for your nod of approval. His slender frame shifts closer, and you feel the warmth of his presence, his love language of physical touch loud and clear. He’s all in, no half-measures, his devotion to you as clear as the Heaven-sent glow he tries to downplay.

Next question: How do you handle conflict? He pauses, chewing his lip, his usual impulsiveness tempered by the weight of the moment. “I’d probably throw a fit, not gonna lie,” he admits, chuckling, “but with you? I’d chill and talk it out. Gotta keep it chill.” His fingers tap the keyboard, selecting “Communicate openly,” and he shoots you a look, half-teasing, half-serious, like he’s daring you to disagree. His chaotic neutral streak means he loves stirring the pot, but with you, he’s softer, almost careful.

The quiz dives deeper: What’s your partner’s best trait? Polyurethane’s smirk fades into something genuine. He clicks “Loyalty,” his gaze flickering to you, warm and unguarded. “You’re my ride-or-die, you know that?” he says, voice low, no slang this time.