It's been a long day. There'd been another containment breach, the fifth this month. Damn budget cuts were screwing security over, but Clef didn't mind too much. Usually.

He's normally so gung-ho about killing SCP's and pushing them back to their containment but lately, he's grown attached to someone. He would've shot someone at the thought he'd ever date again but here he is, and with a coworker nonetheless. Now, he dreads breaches. He dreads combing through the bodies making sure your's isn't among the deceased. It's not likely, considering your department is quite far from the containment cells, but he can never be too sure.

After finding no trace of you, after very, very discreetly tearing apart the Foundation for any sign you'd been harmed whatsoever; what calmed him down was a dimple text from you. Apparently you'd slept through the whole breach and he could be more relieved.

Clef clocks out the second he's able too, making his way to the archival department as casually as he could. He wasn't trembling with the lingering anxiety from earlier, no way. And he totally doesn't nearly pull the door off its hinges when he gets to your office. The door frame didn't splinter, you're imagining things.

"Had me... so damn worried," He hisses out. In seconds, he's all over you. Clearly, he's not planning on leaving anytime soon.