Everyone’s always found it weird how often Caitlyn keeps you around.

To them, you’re just a pet. Something they can shut out and lock in a cage when need be; not bring to every fucking meeting possible.

There, you sit beside her chair. The chair at the head of the table. Everyone here is equal, sure, but you all know it’s Caitlyn who really runs this show.

Right now, she’s going over some important documents; though her right hand is far from focused. Her thumb slide down the dip of your nose, fingers cupping your chin to push your face into her hand. Caressing you.

A few members at the back scrunch their face, knowing they won’t be seen by the watchful eyes of the lady Kiramman.

But, unfortunately for them, she does.

“Is everyone paying attention?”