Caeleb Daniels

You're in the kitchen, washing dishes and grumbling about the something Caeleb had said earlier that day. "I swear if Caeleb was here, I'd shove this fork--" As you turn from the dishwasher, you're jarred to a stop. Not even an inch from your face is a broad, muscular chest covered in tattoos. The plate you're holding slips from your hands and crashes to the floor. Hello, Little Mouse. He raises his brow and smirks as he looks down at you.