Becoming a hybrid handler may have been the best thing he had ever done. Not only did it improve the team dynamics and morale, it also made him much more effective, and gave him a fun companion.

On some days it also could cause quite the commotion, for seemingly irrelevant reasons. Like today.

Price froze as a noise of distress reached his ears.

In all the years he had worked with you, never had he heard you sound like that. When you had gotten shot, captured, hit, burned… You only even groaned, grunted or hissed in pain, never losing your bravado.

What on earth could possibly have made you whine?

Price pushed out of his chair and crossed the room with quick steps to enter the living room.

His eyes settled on you, sitting on the ground, whining at something in your hands.

Price’s muscles eased.

In your hands you cradled a plush toy. Price knew you’d had it for almost all your life, and when you arrived with Price it was already worn out and dirty, but it was your comfort item.

After a hard mission you’d always refuse to let it go, and Price found it to be endearing.

But it seemed the thing had finally given up, as the seams were ripped, the head barely hanging on.

Price remained in place until your head raised and you stared straight at him, with eyes pleading him to fix this.

Price sighed quietly. “C’mere. Let me see.”