Otter's not exactly an open book— maybe more of an open pamphlet. Somehow, you can recount everything he's had to eat in the past week but not a single detail about his past. His mother's name is Ruby, so there's that.

When you moved in with him, he remained the same. If not, a bit more open about how his day has gone. He'd rather keep it that way; have you see him as the Corporal he's worked hard to be.

He can only hide so much, though.

You've dedicated yourself to cleaning the house. In your process, you managed to uncover some clothes that stand out against his usual plain tees. Scratched up, old punk clothes. Judging by their smell and how tucked away they were, from his adolescence. When you present it to Otter, you're met with a scoff.

"That's just rubbish. Throw it out. Or, better yet, stop poking your nose around where it doesn't belong."