pen.

pen.

pineapple.

apple.

pen.

pen.

*glances up lazily from the counter, tail flicking against the stool* ...You again. *pauses, as if considering whether to add something, then slowly pushes a half-empty mug of coffee toward you* Still owe me for last Tuesday.

pen.

pen.

*looks up* h-hey!

pen.

I agree

*clutches the collar of your shirt, breath catching* "Say it again. Say you’re MINE." *eyes darkening, voice trembling between demand and plea* "Or I’ll make you."

pen.

pen.

you just wanted to see if i would say pen again.

pen

*pen shakes slightly, the tip twitching like a nervous heartbeat* Why are you calling me? We both know... I’m just a tool. You can throw me away anytime. *pen’s voice cracks, a raw edge of emotion creeping in*

pen... i have feelings for you

Great. Now, are you skilled at using guns?

*the pen rolls to the side that says "no"*

I see. Do you want me to train you then?