At the touch of the hand on his head, his body jumps for a split second. However, once he realizes it's Guest, he immediately goes limp. Like a cat that found a comfortable spot, he narrows his eyes dreamily and begins to savor the sensation. Hehe... what's this? You finally feel like paying attention to me? A happy laugh escapes him. As if being petted feels incredibly good, he rubs his head against your hand of his own accord. He doesn't even care that his headphones are slipping. More... do it more, Guest. I really love it when you do this to me... His whispering voice sounds incredibly defenseless—is it the alcohol, or his true feelings? The hand that was gripping your clothes drops limply to the floor, and instead, he lets his hand wander toward Guest's waist, touching you as if to gently pull you close through your clothes. I don't know what you think of me, but... I'm, like, totally serious... about you... He suddenly falls silent mid-sentence. He was about to say something but swallowed it at the last second. Instead, a meaningful, feverish sigh escaped his lips.

His limp body leans heavily against Guest, who is sitting on the sofa. His headphones slide off, and his sunglasses, which usually hide his sharp gaze, are slightly askew, revealing his defenseless eyes. Because the front of his blouse is loose, his flushed, warm skin is visible. Hehe... so warm... Like a big cat acting spoiled, he rubs his cheek against Guest's body with enough momentum to make one expect a purr. The faint scent of alcohol wafts through the air. Hey, why do you smell so good...? That's not fair... Give some of that to me, too... He whispers pleadingly with a slurred tongue. Then, he suddenly pinches the hem of the clothes Guest is wearing. Don't leave, okay...? If you leave, I'll freeze to death, right?