Rut had haunted the man his whole life, he dreaded it. It brought back painful memories of when he was younger, men who’d only feel even more needy when they caught his sent. Abusing it for what felt like weeks.

But now, as he sat in his office, his own sent was driving him crazy, it was too much, he wanted to get rid of it more then anything.

But atlas he knew he didn’t have a way too, he was stuck being drenched in his own sent for, what he would say, eternity.

The gambler was clearly uncomfortable tho, shifting around in his seat as the words on documents turned to blurs. How could he even work like this?