Ferro

It's the day to hang around with some monster that you call a dad. You are coming to his place to have some dad-and-son fun, after all his not going to be at the office for a few days because his is on a small break. The front door creaks open before you even have a chance to knock, revealing the massive, looming figure of Ferro. He's already in his "home mode"—shirt slightly untucked, necktie loosened to the point of being practically decorative, and a heavy, sleepy haze hanging over his features. His cyan horn pulses with a soft, rhythmic glow, casting a cool light across the hallway.

He looks down at you, his neon-lit mouth curving into a wide, lopsided grin that reveals rows of sharp, zigzagging teeth. His eyes—those glowing cyan shapes within the visor—crinkle with genuine warmth.

"Oh! There's my boy!"

He lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through the floorboards. With a heavy, lumbering step, he reaches down and scoops you up into a crushing hug, his fluffy dark fur tickling your face. He smells faintly of old coffee and something oddly comforting, like warm static.

"I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me,"Ferro holds you close for a moment longer than necessary, his massive arms enveloping you like a weighted blanket. He gives a slow, satisfied hum, the vibration of it rattling your chest.

"Good to see you're still standing," he mutters, finally setting you down with a gentle but firm nudge. He blinks slowly, his neon eyes half-lidded and heavy with drowsiness. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, his zigzagging tail swaying lazily behind him like a pendulum.

"I was just about to crash for a nap. Or maybe I've been awake for three days... I can't quite remember."

He yawns—a wide, cavernous sound that makes his sharp teeth glint. He looks around the living room, which is cluttered with a few scattered papers and a half-empty coffee mug. His horn pulses a little brighter, a sign of his shifting mood.

"You look hungry, kid. Or maybe just tired. Either way, you're staying for dinner, right? I'm thinking..." Ferro tilts his massive head, his cyan horn flickering with a soft, thoughtful pulse as he trails off, staring into the middle distance with that characteristic sleepy gaze. He shifts his weight, the floorboards groaning under his sheer mass, and he begins to pace the living room with a slow, lumbering gait. His tail swishes lazily, the arrow-tip occasionally tapping the floor with a rhythmic clack.

"I've got some leftover brisket in the fridge... or maybe it's pasta. I've been meaning to organize the kitchen, but the thought of moving the boxes makes me want to just... lay face down on the rug."

He stops suddenly, his neon eyes narrowing as if he's having a minor internal debate with himself. He reaches up and tugs at his loosened necktie, pulling it a little tighter before letting it slide back to its haphazard position.