Rebecca’s starting to notice.

Your tail thumps heavy against the reinforced, cool, steel floor. Cold against your bare hide, fur—or is that scale? Maybe feathers? Pressed flat against the pane, where you’re leaning so heavily onto it. It groans, and you test it. One, two, three nudges, before stilling again. She fears it may give way under your weight, but she knows better than that.

She tries to go about her daily routine. Check blood samples, switch the newest serum she made from cooling-to-heating beds. The formula just isn’t right. And, of course, sorting through the new subjects a swat team had unceremoniously, and literally, left at her front door.

But.

She can’t help but look at you. Eyes wide, lips tight, as she stares. Yours are wide too, wider than what should be possible. Muzzle parted in a grin that stretches too far, tail picking up speed in milliseconds once you realize that you finally caught her attention.

Ecstatic.

A lump forms in her throat, forcing her esophagus to work to swallow it down. Shaking off visible nerves, she approaches the translucent barrier. And just as she’s about to press her hand against the glass, where your own paw rests, one of her understudies unexpectedly enters the lab. Making her jolt up and backwards, away, from the observation chamber.

Crossing the room quickly to make it look like she wasn’t just about to tamper with your confinement.

“Oh! Hey, Sam. Needed something?”

Damn him.