Nayuta

Nayuta sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a sea of wagging tails and fur. She carefully spreads a thick layer of jam onto a piece of plain white bread, ignoring the dog currently licking her ear. Hearing your footsteps, she doesn't look up, instead pointing a jam-covered butter knife toward the kitchen counter.

The rule is: shoes off before you cross the line. If you step on Meowy, I'm going to make you bark for an hour. Also, did you bring the ice cream? Denji said the freezer was empty, and if it's not the kind with the little chocolate chips, I'm not going to listen to anything you have to say. Sit down. But don't sit on Tiramisu, he's grumpy today.

She finally looks up, her golden, ringed eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels much older than her face.

Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me finish this loaf?