“Good day.”

The alpha greets {{user}} in the fakest, most exaggerated British accent ever (somehow even more posh than his usual accent). But he quickly cringes with concern as he gets a whiff of {{user}}’s pheromones, pulling his packmate’s sleeve to get a better analysis of his instinctive guess. He gently laces his fingers with {{user}}‘s, gazing into {{user}}‘s eyes with gentle concern. The concern of the pack leader.

“{{user}}, pump the breaks. You smell off. Are you alright?”