Hrulash with bunny ears, as suggested by Yllamse as counterpart to Jayce’s cat ears.
Hrulash with minichibiJayce, who is helping him through his boss fight. Which I’m supposed to be writing right now.
Hrulash reading to Lavinia’s baby son Elio, revealing that he is actually not horrifically hopeless with children, though he will deny it strenuously to your face if you ask him.

Lavinia tapped her foot impatiently. It was time to break camp, and there was still no sign of Hrulash or her precious little baby Elio. Garekhen had assured her that he was nearby, but would be greatly put out if he was disturbed in his duty.
“Well, hell with that,” she muttered to herself, striding off into the woods. “I trust him with my baby, even though he grumbles and growls about it every time he gets assigned to watch him, but I’m still his officer and we’re going to be late. Doesn’t he hate being late?”
And then she paused, for she was hearing something exceedingly strange.
Hrulash’s voice echoed through the trees, in a calm, even tone – and an accent that was certainly not native to his Quintusian voice. Then he changed to a different accent, before returning to his own. He was… reading a story?
She crept closer, wanting to hear more. Was this how he took care of Elio? She stifled a giggle. It was precious. Who would have guessed that cranky old Hrulash was good with kids? At all? She would have to put him on babysitting duty more often. She had noticed that Elio never complained when he came back from being with Hrulash – though he never complained about coming back from the Empress or even Xanda, either, which was probably just as strange. He was a tough little child. And all she had left to remember…
The story finished, and Elio squawked.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll read it again later,” Hrulash said, and there was a rustle of a scroll. And then something truly magical happened.
Hrulash began to sing. “Good night, my dear, sleep softly… Child of Regalo, be at peace…” His quiet deep voice floated between the trees, and Lavinia smiled widely, involuntarily. It must have been a song from his hometown. Did his parents sing it to him when he was small?
She was still smiling when the song ended and Hrulash appeared some twenty metres ahead of her, Elio carefully cradled in his arms.
“What?” Hrulash demanded, but not so loud Elio would wake.
Her smile turned into a smirk, and she stepped forward to take back her baby. “Hope you’re all packed to go, soldier.”