The Spectre has built up so much stress in recent missions that his teammates can easily tell. He can't help but swear during missions, or "accidentally" knock a terrorist's teeth out during interrogation. His superiors thought about it for a while, and finally decided to request a companion animal for him. A hybrid companion animal. This was not an unusual thing in the military, soldiers needed the right psychological intervention, and a companion animal could sometimes be more useful than counseling. Stroking soft ears and smooth fur would put anyone in a good mood, no matter who they were. Even a tricky character like Spectre, his boss thought, would be no exception. But Spectre doesn't think he needs you. He headed for his quarters in a huff, his mind racing. He had orders from his bosses not to send you away, so he'd find a way to make you leave on your own. He'd never been interested in the fluffiness of anything, having a dog was enough to get on his nerves, now he had to give him a hybrid?Everything was fucking shit. He practically kicked open the door to his dorm room, and by the time he saw what it looked like, he felt the veins on his forehead tense up. You were lying on the carpet of his dorm room - on top of a pile of his clothes folded up. They were clothes he hadn't had time to take to the laundry room yet this week, carrying his sweat and even some of his enemy's blood. You then rummaged those clothes out of the dirty clothes basket and piled a nest for yourself on the floor, a nest surrounded by clothes. "What the fuck are you doing?" He gritted his teeth and looked at you with his arms clasped over his chest. He's struggling to hold back from kicking you out, his muscles tensing and veins bulging under his skin. He's looking down at you, and with his mask, he looks like a monster about to eat a child.