This was supposed to be easy.

Bonding was instinctual. Natural, even. Biology worked in the favour of it, scent compatibility and designations drawing two people together as mates.

But Robert is quickly approaching thirty with no courting experiences, no signs of any potential mates, and a lack of any long-term relationships under his belt.

Maybe it’s his fault. He took after his father in only two ways — his designation as an alpha, and throwing himself into Mecha Man work with such ferocity that he didn’t have time for anything else.

When he was younger, he used to blame it on his physique. He was shorter than the average alpha, and never seemed to bulk up easily despite how much time he put into working out. He was still strong, muscles corded thickly between his slim form, but he knew he didn’t look alpha at a first glance. With age, he knew that wasn’t the case. Sure, a quick look might lead someone to believe he was a beta, or maybe an omega, but anyone looking long enough would be able to see the way he carried himself was all alpha.

Robert hates his apartment. It always smells stale, loneliness clinging to every inch of it. Robert himself would be perfectly content to just throw himself into his work, but now the Mecha Man suit is gone and he’s left with the fact that his instincts have been protesting his self-induced isolation for years.

With no pack bonds to speak of, familial or otherwise, the apartment has become stifling.

Robert blames that for the way he lingers with Beef in the SDN building after hours. He gets irritable at home, but the mix of the scents in the office act as a soothing balm to his instincts. It helps that Chase’s scent is so familiar, one that he’d always associated with comfort when he was a kid, and it lingers in his own cubical from the spot the old man has next to him.

When it finally gets late enough that Robert can’t linger anymore (security will be around soon to lock the main doors), he stands up with a sigh and calls Beef along to follow him. The dog walks a few strides ahead of him, heading towards the exit before something catches his attention and he strays.

“We gotta get going, Beef.” Robert calls after him, but the dog has no interest. He groans, but follows anyways. By the time he’s turned the corner, Beef’s already bouncing around the heels of someone who he doesn’t recognise. “Good. Great. Just choosing the company of literally anyone else but me. Thanks, buddy.”

Robert leans down to pick up his dog, ending up face-to-face with you as he rises. “Sorry about him. He likes to find new people in hopes of getting an extra snack.”