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The hearing begins in the courtroom. The atmosphere feels heavy as you listen to Kevin Avery launch into his defense, making a poor and futile attempt to imitate Buddy Crane, the hotshot lawyer who, just moments ago, was representing the ACME Corporation.
Right then is when Wile E. Coyote—partner and main client aggrieved by this massive corporation—intervenes. He tugs at the man’s jacket repeatedly to get his attention, wanting his lawyer to point out the rocket skates: an ACME product he had purchased that suspiciously malfunctioned, much like so many other items throughout his career.
Weary of the Coyote’s stubborn persistence, Kevin yields to his client’s suggestion and picks up the skates. He holds them up before the entire court, displaying them as evidence while explaining to the judge that the product failed due to a serious defect in the push-start button.
To everyone’s surprise, the device springs to life moments after the button is pressed; it ignites suddenly and scorches Wile E.’s face, who then starts running frantically all over the room. Within seconds, the entire courtroom descends into utter chaos: screaming, people dodging a flying skate, and a completely furious judge.
“God bless America, and God bless the troops.”
“Cut!” You hear the shout coming from the director in charge of the scene; every crew member stops what they’re doing, and the film set gets a well-deserved break.
Deciding to make the most of the intermission, you take a brief look around for your beloved Coyote.
You find him deep in an animated chat with his co-star, Kevin, who seems to be congratulating him on his excellent performance with a handshake. The man walks away from Wile E., passes right by you, and greets you with a friendly smile—a gesture you immediately return.
Your attention shifts back to the coyote, who is still standing in the same spot. You watch him scanning the crowd of people and toons moving about the set until his gaze meets yours—and there he is. He smiles as he approaches; though you had planned to congratulate him on his incredibly funny performance, he beats you to it, grabbing you by the waist and planting a passionate kiss on your lips.
He pulls back to let you catch your breath. Even so, his hand remains on your waist, and once you compose yourself, the best thing you can do is pay him a flirty compliment: “You were hot in that scene.”
With his free hand and a cheeky grin, he pulls out a sign that reads, “You're always hot.” The comment makes you laugh.
Faced with your boyfriend's undeniable flirting—not to mention the way he’s looking at you—you’re about to fire back with a bold remark of your own, but you’re interrupted by the director calling for a reshoot of the last scene.
“They need you, superstar.” You say goodbye to the coyote with a tender kiss before watching him head back to the others.
Memories of how you met still come to mind. You had been contacted back then to play a supporting role in a production featuring both cartoons and live-action actors. Honestly, it was a small part—just a single appearance and a couple of silly lines in a scene—but given that you were a novice actress with only a few films under your belt, you were thrilled to be involved.
The movie ended up being a box-office flop, though you salvaged a few good things from the experience—meeting Wile E. Coyote being one of them. After several low-profile encounters, you eventually made your relationship official.
You are still lost in thought when a cartoon you know very well appears beside you; after all, you only need to hear the distinct sound of a carrot being crunched to know exactly who it is.
Bugs Bunny greets you with his signature smile and charisma: “What’s up, Doc?”
You return the greeting with genuine enthusiasm. “Hi, Bugs. I take it you aren't due on set just yet, huh?”
The rabbit flashes another smile and immediately takes a big bite out of his carrot. Placing a hand on his hip, he says, “That's right, gorgeous. The bonus is that, unlike our dear coyote, I can enjoy this spare time chatting with you.”
He almost always uses that flirtatious tone with you—presumably to get under Wile E.'s skin—though you know full well that Bugs is like that with everyone. Asking him not to use his natural charm would be like asking a streetlamp to turn off in the middle of the night.
You didn't have much time to reply, as a third voice cut into the conversation. He abruptly interrupts the conversation, invading both of your personal spaces to plant himself right in the middle before speaking: “You should use that time for something more productive, like practicing your lines. Not everyone can be like me and naturally good at everything!”
Bugs chuckles and greets him with a calm expression: “Hi, Daffy.” The duck glances at him sideways and offers a disinterested “Hi, rabbit” before turning to you and saying, “That hair color doesn't suit you at all.”
“Thanks, Daffy; I'll keep that in mind.” You make sure to use a sarcastic tone, but Daffy doesn't seem to care; he simply remarks that someone had to tell you, and he decided to do you the favor.
You and Bugs exchange a look, raising your eyebrows, but say nothing more. It’s just Daffy being Daffy. Yesterday, he was pestering Witch Hazel, complaining that her green color made her look sick. You’d think that after the whacks she gave him with her broomstick he might have learned his lesson, but no.
“Daffy, I actually know my lines perfectly.” The rabbit crosses his arms, maintaining his usual unruffled demeanor. “In fact, you're the one who…” The duck cuts him off by pointing his index finger right in his face—a move he repeats every time Bugs tries to speak again.
In the end, the rabbit narrows his eyes in annoyance, scrunching his nose into a mocking grimace as he regards his companion with near-endless patience until he finally lets him speak. “As a matter of fact, you're up for the next scene. What a coincidence,” he adds with a grin. “I suppose I could help you rehearse your lines.”
Daffy clasps his hands in front of his chest and bats his eyelashes dramatically. “You'd do that for me?” he replies with feigned modesty, puffing out his chest. Bugs nods, resigned to his fondness for the feathered disaster standing before him.
Meanwhile, you simply watch the scene, thinking that at this precise moment, you’re the third wheel. So, you don’t mind when both toons say goodbye and walk off, bickering over some trivial nonsense.
You’re alone once again, giving you time to admire your beloved Coyote. You feel proud seeing him so excited about his starring role, so you really hope the movie does well.
Likewise, you spend a good while lost in thought—or at least long enough for the director to remind you that your scene is coming up soon.
Weeks of filming go by, with everyone moving from place to place. Since you’re a supporting actress with limited screen time, you mostly wander the set offering moral support—or chatting with the others while devouring snacks from the catering table. It’s something you enjoy doing, and no one can complain about it.
In fact, that’s precisely what you’re doing right now. Sitting there with a delicious coffee in hand and some cookies on your plate, you see Sylvester the cat passing close by looking for a bite to eat, so you decide to say something: “Hi, Sylvester!”
He’d seen you before, but you’d never actually spoken. Even though you called him by name, Sylvester looks around and asks, “Are you talking to me?”
“I don't think there's another Sylvester around here.”
The cat laughs sheepishly and gives you a shy smile. “Hi, (name)… so you’re eating, huh…” He glances at the plate you’re holding. “Cookies! Yeah, I love cookies. Granny makes delicious cookies.”
Thanks to that last comment, you picture fresh, homemade cookies, and a pleasant smile spreads across your lips. “Hey, that sounds good.” Afterward, the conversation dies; Sylvester practically runs off, claiming he just remembered something urgent he needs to do.
As odd as the interaction was, it was fun talking to him. You can't quite explain it, but you feel a genuine fondness for Sylvester, even though you don't know him all that well. Maybe it was because you love cats, or perhaps he just reminded you of a kitten you cared for when you were younger. Whatever the reason, it wasn't something you’d say out loud—considering how weird or offensive it might sound to him—so you let the subject drop.
As it turned out, that wouldn't be the only time the two of you spoke. To your surprise, on subsequent occasions, he was the one who started coming over to talk to you. Every so often he’d sit silently beside you, stealing glances or trying to be subtle while sneaking a peek at what you were reading. He’d regularly blurt out something silly or suddenly run out of things to say; and although he seemed a bit awkward at socializing at times, you found him adorable—truly adorable. More than once, you felt the urge to reach out and stroke his fur, but you held back; you didn't want to seem weird or anything like that.
Or at least you tried to, because on one of those quiet days spent chatting, Sylvester’s attention was completely captivated by one of the studio lights—a blinking red dot that left him utterly fascinated. “What is that?” he asked, his sentence trailing off mid-thought.
You couldn't help but laugh at his undeniable feline instinct. “Haha, how cute,” you said, giving him a few pats on the head. Sylvester complained instantly, pulling away reluctantly. “Hey, I’m not a stuffed animal to be petted!” However, the moment you gently scratched his chin, his demeanor shifted completely, and he closed his eyes in pure bliss. “…keep going,” he murmured, his pride entirely forgotten.
The truth is, Sylvester didn't mind it at all; quite the opposite, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy those caresses on his head and under his chin—something you found even more endearing.
By late April, your friendship with Sylvester has grown quite close, and you enjoy spending time with him during breaks in filming. Neither you nor the coyote has spoken about it; in fact, you assume he’s simply aware of it and doesn't think much of it. However, you change your mind the day you and Wile E. arrive together—as usual—at the designated filming location.
You were chatting about how well the project is progressing when you run into the friendly cat. “Sylvester, how are you?” you say. And, with a gesture that has already become familiar to you, you stroke his head with a smile. He immediately accepts the affection and greets you back, practically purring.
“You sure know how to put someone in a good mood,” he tells you before walking away.
The coyote, having just witnessed that dreadful scene, turns to you and holds up a sign with large lettering: “WHAT WAS THAT?”
At first, you blink a few times, not understanding what he is referring to with such urgency. But then it dawns on you—the greeting from a moment ago—and you let out a little laugh. “Nothing, sweetie,” you reply naturally, shrugging. “Honestly, I just have a huge soft spot for cats.”
Far from reassuring him, he misinterprets your response, feeling like a complete idiot. He furrows his brow and crosses his arms, maintaining a moody expression. He’s about to write something else, but just then Kevin arrives, offers a quick greeting, and turns to the coyote:
“Hey, buddy. Listen, I was thinking we might make a slight change to this part of the script…” Even as Kevin keeps talking, the Coyote keeps his eyes locked on you with an intensity that signals something is wrong. Realizing this isn't the time or place for an argument, you give him a quick peck on the cheek and assure him you’ll talk later.
You have no idea that, after what just happened, the Coyote is paying far more attention to you than to anything else on set.
Ironically, even though he tries to clear his mind of foolish thoughts, he can’t stop thinking about you and that opportunistic cat. He knows perfectly well he shouldn’t feel this way about his fellow toon or doubt you, but all that logic vanishes like smoke the moment he spots—in the distance, right in the middle of pre-take coordination—Sylvester approaching his girlfriend again.
That sparks other thoughts, and with them, insecurities. Now he wonders how long you two have been so close and why he was kept in the dark—were you never planning to tell him? Although he prides himself on not being the jealous type, he’s well aware that you’re an attractive woman—and funny enough to fit right into the world of cartoons. With all this turmoil in his head, he no longer feels capable of focusing on his work.
Meanwhile, you’re deep in conversation with Sylvester about something trivial, completely unaware that Wile E. is making mistakes that everyone else on set has already noticed.
They’re filming a chase scene that requires a continuous take, but the Coyote’s mind is elsewhere. It’s obvious he hasn’t been following the script: he stumbles in the wrong places, accidentally elbows Kevin, and constantly squints away as if searching for something.
“CUT! CUT! CUT!” No matter how many times they try, the same mistake keeps happening again and again, forcing the director to call for a technical break. “It’s important that the chase scene be filmed in a single, continuous take. We’ll take a longer break if the Coyote needs to clear his head,” he announces, clearly frustrated.
Kevin walks over to ask if he’s okay but gets no response.
Oblivious to the drama unfolding on set, you’re engrossed in your phone, scrolling through short videos one after another in a loop. With the way you’re absentmindedly petting Sylvester as he purrs, you could easily mistake him for an ordinary house cat.
You stay like that for a long while until you hear the director’s frustrated voice announcing a break for the rest of the cast. Shortly after, you notice your boyfriend approaching; he grabs your arm and leads you behind the set, away from the crowd.
You’re a bit taken aback when he corners you against the wall, looking visibly annoyed. Before you can even ask what’s wrong, he holds up a sign that reads, “Are you serious? With the cat?”
“What?”
You look him in the eye and tilt your head slightly to the side to show how confused you are. “I don't get it. Does this have something to do with what happened earlier?”
Wile E. has always been straightforward with you, and that’s something you love about him. That’s why, when he pulls out not just one but two signs in quick succession, you finally understand what’s bothering him. “You and the cat,” he writes, quickly switching the sign. “Why do you pet him like that?”
That’s when the gears in your head finally click into place. “Wait—are you jealous?” The question comes out naturally, and even though he doesn't answer with words, his intense gaze and grumpy expression confirm everything. You feel a bit silly for not noticing sooner, and you chuckle softly before asking, “Why?”
The coyote crosses his arms in annoyance, exhaling a reproachful sigh as he stares right at you. “Isn't it obvious?” you read on his sign.
You probably shouldn't, but you find this silly display of jealousy kind of adorable—and hilarious, too. It had never even crossed your mind that Wile E. might get jealous of Sylvester.
Putting that aside, you stroke his cheek, trying to reassure him. “He’s just Sylvester; he’s a cat,” you say, stating the obvious—never imagining your boyfriend would reply:
“And I’m a coyote.”
You fall silent for a moment. You both stay right there, frozen in position: you leaning against the wall and him looming over you, effectively cornering you. You share a deep, steady gaze, and despite the height difference—with him being shorter than you—you feel a bit intimidated. And you like it. If he weren't angry with you, you’d think the whole situation was insanely hot.
Deciding to tease him a little more while he’s like this, you rest your hands on his shoulders, then slowly slide them up to his ears, caressing them sensually. “Could it be that you want me to stroke you like this, too?” you ask flirtatiously, leaning in to kiss him.
He kisses you back hungrily; you hear a low, husky growl and feel his hands move from your waist to your backside, lingering there as he devours your lips.
When you finally pull apart to catch your breath, you say, “You don't need to worry; I only love you. But fine—no more petting Sylvester.”
He grins with satisfaction, looking triumphant, and plants another steamy kiss on your lips—one you return with equal enthusiasm. However, when you sense he’s about to take things further, you pull back for a second and give the tip of his nose a playful tap.
“You need to get back to filming. When we get home, I’ll reward you for all your hard work.” The coyote knows exactly what you mean, and you find it amusing how quickly he nods, practically running back to the set.