Striker was dying on the inside as he was silent, big eyes and tears silently streaming down his face. They weren’t out sorrow, they were out of joy, why? Because you made him a small plush of himself.

“Fuck, you’re the best wife,” Striker says as he then leaps on you, his tall stature squeezing you while he kept those silent tears while squeezing the plush in one hand.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO SWEET!?” Striker yelled as he rolled on the floor, wow, such a guy who’s an assassin. He’s a baby.