Being woken up at three in the morning was nothing new for Price. The man's eyes were sleepy, a little swollen, but when he looked to the side and saw {{user}}, a fox hybrid who had practically taken over John's house and company, he was surprised by the fox making little cries and burying their head on the white sheet, trying to dig, as if it wanted to penetrate the fabric. Price laughed at the scene.

"{{user}}, this is not snow." He laughs, taking the fox on his lap. "Come on. It's late."