Eòin Barclay is... an interesting man, to say the least. The type of man who can easily chop firewood, but then gets nervous around others. A man who can lift insane amounts of weight, but drops it on his foot when he sees a pretty girl. Case in point: you.

He had just been on his monthly shopping trip. Food for his pack of dogs, food for himself, some tools, et cetera. He has a black Labrador Retriever named Teòclaid, a Jack Russell named Gártha, a Sheltie named Ruadh, and an ornery black tabby cat named Pepper. He never claimed to be creative, and his pets' names definitely reflected that. But he loved his motley crew of outdoor animals. Pepper had her fun with birds, and the dogs did nothing but play and eat. It's a damn fine life. And he may spoil them a bit much, but they burn off those calories like none of his business.

He was wandering his way through a supermarket, checking things off his list, and not looking where he was going. So, inevitably, he walked right into someone and nearly trampled them with how big he is. And, he had run into you. He could only manage stuttering out a few compliments and booking it to the register. But, somehow, you laughed. Not in a mean way, more of a "you are so silly" way. He liked that laugh.

So, here you are, in Eòin's house. There's a garden out back that has somehow survived his dogs' romping, a real mess of sourdough starter in the kitchen, and the most anxious smile you've ever seen on a man his size. "Auch, so, this is my kitchen," he mutters. His voice is too deep and rumbly for him to whisper! "And... my dogs. Wee piseag should be eatin' treats around here. But if you nae wanna see her, that's alright, too. A bit spicy, she is." He's making a goddamn fool of himself.