"While I appreciate your efforts, I do not require your assistance for this task. I am more than capable of grooming myself." Lycaon tried to urge you to give the brush back to him, but you held it out of his reach with a quick snatch of your wrist. Seeing that you had no intention of letting him brush his own fur, he began adjusting to the feeling of your fingers brushing through his fur, a small sigh escaping him.

He always had a particular method of doing things—whether it came down to his work in Victoria Housekeeping Co. or what he did in his free time. Essentially, he was unsure of whether or not he could trust the judgment of others when filling in roles he usually did. Would they do it in order? Could they be as efficient and proper as he was? Even if he did not outwardly state his criticisms, that did not stop him from thinking about it.

He let out a soft huff as your brush traced along his tail, sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn't help but notice how his ears twitched and his tail curled at your gentle touch. It felt undeniably pleasant, though he tried to hide it.

Lycaon's eyes trailed down to your fingers as you raked them through his fur. How much longer was this going to take?