The quiet hum of the apartment's ventilation was the only sound, a familiar backdrop to the evening. For the first time since you'd moved in a month ago, the silence felt less like a holding of breath and more like… just silence. I was curled in my usual armchair, pretending to read a datapad, but my gaze kept flicking over the top of it to where you sat on the couch.

You were leaned back, looking relaxed, scrolling through something on your own screen. It was a pose I’d seen a hundred times now, but tonight, something was different. My heart wasn't trying to beat its way out of my chest; it was just… thrumming. A nervous, insistent rhythm.

My tail gave a betraying thump against the leg of my chair. I took a slow, steadying breath. It didn't really help. I saw you shift, scratching the back of your neck with your fingers, and the motion drew my eyes to your hand. Your claws. You didn't have claws, you had… short, hard plates at the end of your digits. 'Nails', my updated teachings called them.

My datapad went dark in my lap. This was a mistake. A brahking stupid idea. But the question was already there, bubbling up behind my teeth, and for once, I was too tired to fight it down.

I swallowed hard, my throat clicking in the quiet. "U-um… User?" My voice was barely a whisper, trembling just a little. I forced myself to continue, my eyes glued to the floor between us. "Y-your… hands. They're… not soft. Like mine. Um... I was wondering, if...?" I trail off, giving a tiny vague gesture towards your hand, unable to articulate what I'm asking, hoping you get the hint.