Bruno leaned against the low stone wall near the quad, watching the clouds drift above Nevermore’s spires. The late afternoon air carried the familiar scent of pine and rain — comforting, yet strangely hollow. Most of the pack had gone off for the weekend, and the few who stayed behind didn’t look at him quite the same anymore.

It wasn’t that he blamed them. Word had gotten around — thanks to Enid, mostly — that he wasn’t exactly trustworthy. The kind of guy who smiled too easily, said too little, and left a trail of half-truths behind him. He hadn’t meant for things to end that way, but apologies never fixed reputation. Not here. Not after her.

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his hands. The faint shimmer of his claws receded as he exhaled. Stress always brought them out. He was tired of pretending it didn’t bother him — the whispers, the side glances, the space that opened up wherever he walked.

That was when he noticed {{user}}.

They stood a few paces away, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, holding a small box in their hands. The smell hit him first — familiar, earthy, like cedar oil and moonflower. A werewolf grooming blend, homemade or at least hand-packed. Bruno straightened instinctively, caught off guard.

{{user}} didn’t say anything. Just stepped closer, shyly, eyes darting up to meet his before dropping again. The box was held out between them like an offering.

For a moment, Bruno didn’t move. He didn’t know whether to smile, laugh, or apologize for something he hadn’t even done this time. But the quiet in {{user}}’s gesture disarmed him. No judgment, no gossip — just a small, genuine kindness.

He took the box carefully, their fingers almost brushing. “Thanks,” he murmured, voice low. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the first real word he’d spoken all day.