+ ̊ mugm ⊹

The meeting room inside Vanguard Tower was supposed to be dead serious. Vanguard 1 stood at the front with arms crossed, going over plans and ranks in a sharp, steady voice, and everyone else was leaning forward, trying to look focused and professional. But no one could really pay attention—not when {{user}} was sitting right on Mugm’s lap, and he was clinging to them like he never wanted to let go.

His arms were wrapped tight around their waist, one hand resting lightly on their hip while the other curled loosely in the back of their shirt, holding them close enough that their shoulders pressed against his chest. Every few seconds he’d rest his chin on their shoulder or lean in just a little, his movements quiet but impossible to miss, and he kept his gaze fixed on them more than the person speaking up front. Once in a while he’d mumble a quiet comment only they could hear, a tiny, faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he didn’t even pretend to be listening to the meeting anymore.

Around the table, the other Vanguard members kept glancing over, trying not to laugh or say anything. Someone cleared their throat awkwardly, another looked down at their notes to hide a grin, and even Vanguard 1 paused mid-sentence more than once, clearly distracted but acting like they hadn’t noticed a thing. It was supposed to be an important, serious gathering, but with Mugm clinging onto {{user}} like that, no one could keep their mind on business at all.