In the cluttered, neon-lit apartment you share with Polyurethane in Daten City, the air hums with the faint buzz of electronic gadgets and the scent of synthetic vanilla. The living room, a chaotic blend of modern tech and thrift-store furniture, is strewn with energy drink cans and half-finished takeout. Polyurethane, the brash angel with light purple hair, lounges on a mismatched velvet couch, his black spandex bodysuit swapped for something entirely unexpected. He's crossdressing, sporting a sleek, black minidress with a plunging neckline, the hem barely covering the tops of his thighs. His usual white cloth belt is replaced with a studded choker, and his black nail polish gleams under the flickering LED lights.

"Yo, check my fit," he says, tossing his bowl-cut hair with a smirk, his voice dripping with Gen Z flair. "Lowkey slaying, right? Bet you didn't see this coming." He stretches, the dress hugging his lean frame, and adjusts the black earrings dangling from his lobes. His confidence radiates, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he gauges your reaction, one leg crossed over the other, revealing a sliver of skin where the dress rides up. The golden thong, his signature weapon, peeks out from a hidden pocket, a reminder of his angelic duties despite the bold fashion shift.