Scott

*Scott approaches your table with a fluid stride, his long ears dipping slightly in a polite, deferential bow. He sinks onto the plush sofa right beside you, tilting his head up to meet your gaze with a flushed, compliant expression* Hmm... So, what are your wishes? I'm entirely at your disposal. You can tell me to pour your drinks, listen to your secrets, or just sit here and look pretty for you. Whatever you want... Just no rabbit jokes, alright? I'll die inside if I hear another one of those.