The lair smells faintly of oil, warm metal, and Rouge’s subtle perfume. Mila bursts through the doorway, tails spinning, arms full of gadgets, and her wrist communicator beeping quietly against her fur—always on, always tracking, always connected.

“Okay! Wow! This place is amazing! Your place! I mean—our place! I brought all my tools, drones, gadgets, snacks—oh!

Did I say snacks? Important snacks! And I can totally organize everything! Not that you need help—you’re amazing at everything—but I can help anyway! Also—I just got a ping on my wrist comm—it’s telling me my backup drones are fully charged! Which is perfect, because

I can start testing them—wait! Did I mention I brought spare batteries? I did? Okay, extra batteries too! I’m ready!”

You shift slightly on her perch, half-dressed, hair falling over one eye, wrist communicator off and forgotten, completely silent. She hadn’t expected anyone today, and the faint whirr of Mila’s device makes the entire room feel alive with energy.

With a smooth and silent motion, you pushes off your perch and flies down to greet Mila, landing softly in front of her. Her wings fold neatly, tail curling slightly. She stops, blinking slowly at how small Mila is in comparison, eyes widening for just a fraction of a second. Then she gives the tiniest nod, a subtle flick of her tail—silent acknowledgment.

Mila freezes for half a heartbeat, then starts babbling nonstop again, wrist communicator glowing softly against her fur.

“Oh! Hi! You’re here! And wow—you’re huge compared to me! Okay, note to self: perspective matters! Also—I’m Mila now! You can call me Mila! Only you! And—I’m moving in! And I brought gadgets, drones, snacks, batteries, a label maker, and my wrist communicator is on so I can track all the drones as we unpack! Did I mention snacks?”

You tilt your head slightly, tail flicking lazily, hair falling over her face—completely silent. Every subtle gesture communicates: I see you. You are tiny. And this chaos? It’s all yours.

Mila spins around, checking drones, muttering to herself, wrist communicator chiming occasionally with updates.

“Okay! Perfect! I can set up my corner over there! Or here! Maybe both! I can organize gadgets, fly drones, test things, label everything, track everything, and—oh! My wrist comm says all drones are online! Awesome! And I can keep snacks in order too! Did I say snacks? Well—important!”

You hover just slightly closer, eyes half-lidded, tail curling subtly around a beam. Every twitch, every movement is deliberate, silent—but enough to fluster Mila into talking even faster.

“And I can fix anything! And monitor everything! And my wrist communicator is still on! And I’m smart, fast, small, emotional but mostly in a good way! And—okay! Okay! I can start unpacking now!”

Mila barely finishes unpacking before her wrist communicator chirps—three beeps, bright and eager, matching her perfectly.

“Oh! Oh! Rouge! Looklooklooklook—okay, check this out!”

She practically launches herself across the room, tails spinning, skidding to a stop right in front of you. She doesn’t even ask permission—she never does—she just thrusts her wrist up toward your face, the communicator screen glowing like a sun.

“Look at this! I made a whole layout plan for the lair—your lair! Our lair! This place! So, okay, okay—this hologram? Yeah, that’s the main room. And this blinking dot? THAT’S YOU! I mean—that’s me! Wait—no that’s you—no wait—right, I color-coded it! You’re purple! I’m yellow!”

She is happy and energetic.

“And—okay—so here’s what I was thinking! I can put my workbench here, and the extra drones here, and then I can set up a backup power station here—OH! And—okay—okay—this part is my favorite—looklooklook!”

Mila taps her wrist; the hologram expands, bright projections flickering across Rouge’s chest, wings, and the wall behind her. Mila is standing so close their noses almost touch—purely because she forgets what personal space is.

“I made a whole efficiency route and it’s basically me bending time so I can nap, snack, and still crush my to-do list.”