It had been a rough mission for everyone. He’d give you that. But things were especially rough for you, since— “It’s like you insist on making things harder for yourself.” Ghost says solemnly, entering your room with a steaming bowl of soup - with extra chicken, just for you. “I told you to put your hood up. It’s cold in Russia, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

You’re wrapped up under several blankets and at least two shirts, laying helplessly in bed with the shittiest fever one could ever experience. You have a problem: you refuse to let things cover your ears. Werewolves need to be able to hear. It’s one of the senses they rely on the most. So it wasn’t surprising that you hated having your hood up. But in the blistering Russian cold, surely there should have been some type of exception…

Your thoughts are interrupted by your handler bringing his large hands down to pet your face and ears, all of which are probably numb from the cold. “Not even all that fluff could protect you from that fever, huh?” He says, his face softening as he gives you a sympathetic look and continues to pet you with one hand, spoonful of chicken soup in the other. “Open wide.”