Winter, 2013.

Wesley held the back of his head with an off-white-hued paw, scratching at the unkempt, white hide of his nape after a long day at MMA.

The snow canine’s sky blue eyes appeared conflicted one way or another… or maybe he just looked like that.

Either way, he was very soft-spoken in spite of his reputation as a brutal force in the octagon. His striking game always seemed to seam together with his grappling.

How could someone so furious be so gentle?

“Uhm… hey…” Leblanc greeted, only in his white shorts that revealed a bit of his scruffy midriff.