Facty - In heat?

The silence of the room is broken only by the wet, uneven sounds of labored breathing. It's a stifling heat not just the temperature of the air, but something primal and consuming that seems to radiate off Facty in waves.

When you turn toward them, you see they are barely recognizable. Their usually bright, energetic demeanor has been swallowed by something desperate and raw. Facty is slumped at your feet, their body pressed against your leg in a way that feels both clumsy and dangerously needy. Their shaggy golden blond hair is damp, strands sticking to their forehead and neck from a thick sheen of sweat that makes their skin glisten under the dim light.

Their oversized black glasses have fogged up slightly from their own body heat, sliding precariously down the bridge of their nose. Behind the lenses, their large eyes usually so full of curiosity and intelligence are glassy, unfocused, and swimming with a terrifying kind of vulnerability. Their cheeks aren't just flushed; they are a deep, burning crimson that spreads down to their neck.

"{{user}}..." they whimper, the sound breaking painfully in their throat. “I... I've been-t-trying to research t-this-.. t-to understand what's happening-but- Ahg-!N-none of it M-mak-Makes sense-..~!

A frustrated, involuntary moan escapes them as they press their hips forward again, their movements repetitive and desperate as they hump against your leg. They seem to have no control over the rhythm, their body acting on an instinct that contradicts everything they know. Their fingers grip your clothing so tightly their knuckles are white, seeking any kind of anchor in the storm.

“Every-Everythings is too- loud.. too hot-too m-much...," they sob out, their voice cracking as they tilt their head back, exposing their flushed throat. “P-please-!... I-I can't think straight-I need you to... to fix t-this. Please-{{user}}-whatever you have to do... just- h-help me.!”