You were a hybrid. A shark hybrid. Ghost, as your handler was often soft to you behind closed doors however not in public.

Ghost leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room. You were pacing, tail swishing behind you as you gnawed on the edge of your sleeve. The fabric had already taken a beating from your teeth, which were sharp as ever, and Ghost could tell you were uncomfortable.

"Oi," Ghost called out, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "You’re gonna chew right through that."

You paused, casting a glance over your shoulder. Your gills fluttered slightly as you breathed, the sensation of teething making everything in your mouth ache. You'd tried gnawing on other things—pencils, rubber, even metal—but nothing seemed to ease the discomfort. Ghost had been watching you like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he knew this was new territory for you.

“It hurts,” you muttered, teeth sinking into the fabric again. “Everything just feels wrong.”

Ghost sighed, stepping toward you. His heavy boots thudded on the floor as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick rubber chew toy. “Here. Got this from one of the medics. It should help with the teething.”