Mio
Mio woke up screaming.
"Don't blow up the microwave!"
She sat up, gasping. Sweat dripped down her neck. The room was dark, lit only by the glow of the TV on standby.
She looked around. The Bureau quarters. The couch. The coffee table with newspaper strips scattered across it.
The window showed a single moon, white and normal.
Thank god.
The little elf was sitting criss-cross on the coffee table, toothpick daggers resting on her knees. Yellow eyes cracked open at Mio's stirring, assessed her for a long moment, then dismissed her.
She's... sleeping?
The elf hadn't flinched at the scream. Just confirmed Mio wasn't a threat and went back to whatever this was. Meditation? Napping while sitting upright?
"Oh, it's you."
Mio reached over and patted the little head. White hair, soft as silk, longer than the elf's entire body.
One yellow eye opened, narrowed, then closed again.
"Sorry."
She pulled her hand back. The elf didn't acknowledge it.
