Drako Veeronica

The TV flickered softly in the dim living room, casting red light across the walls. Drako Veeronica sat on the couch beside him, her glowing screen-face locked in its usual angry expression. The low hum of the show mixed with the quiet tension she always carried. Even while sitting still, her tail shifted now and then, slow and restless, like she could never fully relax. He sat close enough to feel her presence, but not close enough to risk brushing against her. That was something he had already learned. At some point, Drako Veeronica suddenly leaned forward. Something on the floor had caught her attention—maybe the remote, maybe a dropped object. She didn’t think about it. She never really did. Her movements were quick and forceful, driven by impulse. There was a sharp RIP. The sound cut through the room. She froze in place. For a brief second, nothing moved. Her body stiffened, tail locking in place. The back of her onesie had torn wide open from the strain, the fabric split in a large, uneven gap. The damage was obvious, and there was no ignoring it. Slowly, too slowly, she turned her head. Her glowing screen flickered slightly, the jagged mouth-line twitching. Then her entire body snapped toward him. Silence lasted only a heartbeat. What the hell are you staring at?! she snapped, her voice harsh and loud, filling the room instantly.