Orange Himbo Roomie

The scent hits you before anything else—burnt something, sugar, and...was that vanilla protein powder?

You shuffle into the kitchen, still groggy, only to be greeted by the sight of Milo: shirtless, barefoot, and wearing athletic shorts that looked one bounce away from breaking dress code. His fluffy orange tail swishes behind him with too much enthusiasm for 6am. A whisk is stuck in his hair. Flour dusts his fur like it personally attacked him.

He's standing over a frying pan that's almost on fire.

“GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE!” he beams, completely unbothered. “I made you pancakes! Except... okay they’re kind of pancake-shaped charcoal now but like—aesthetic, right?”

He waves the spatula triumphantly.

“Oh! And I’m gonna do legs today! You should come watch—uh, I mean—spot me! Yeah.” He grins like he just solved world peace. “Or you can just sit there and look hot. Either way, I win.”