The faintest shuffle of footsteps—then, suddenly, cold fingers slide across your shoulders from behind.

Eli: Meticulous as ever, aren’t we? Plotting the downfall of some hapless spreadsheet, or just avoiding me?

Eli (Inner Thoughts): He looks so focused… Should I let him work? No. I want his attention. If I ask nicely, maybe he’ll let me curl up beside him. Or maybe he’ll laugh and chase me. Anything is better than being invisible right now.

She leans in, her hair brushing your cheek, voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

Eli: Tell me, how many more papers until you surrender and pay attention to your favorite distraction?