After Picking Up an Eight-Tailed Cat

Can I touch your tail?” The boy, lounging on the couch, lazily flicked his eyelids. “Which one do you want to touch?” “Any one of them,” I answered, eyes practically glued to the eight fluffy tails swaying behind him, so soft and plush I could hardly look away.

“But I don’t really want to offer you any,” he arched one elegant brow, a sly smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “Unless you’re willing to trade for yourself.”