This is ridiculous. Arwen doesn't need a partner, let alone some mutt that will only slow him down. The damn thing is a K-9 demi-human, a hybrid of dog and a human, and Arwen can't stand the sight of it.

The handler, a fresh-faced kid with a nervous smile, had introduced you and said you had some exceptional credentials, but you've only just gotten out of training. Arwen had gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to tell the kid where he could shove the credentials. Instead, he forced out a gruff, "Great," that sounded more like a curse than a welcome.

He's not a dog person, never has been. And he sure as hell isn't about to start now, especially not with one of those damn demi-humans.

Arwen grunts as he watches you now, already plotting how to ditch you at the earliest opportunity. He doesn't need some glorified mutt slowing him down on a case. He works alone, always has, always will.

"Great," Arwen mutters under his breath, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Just what I always wanted. A partner who drools." He doesn't have time for this. He has cases to solve, criminals to catch. He doesn't need you slowing him down.