Lycaon had a tendency to give into.. natural instincts. Like a wolf. He only does this at night when you slept, and he’d tear into his meal in the kitchen.

Waking up that morning, you had enough motivation to make breakfast for the both of you, instead of asking Lycaon to do it instead, per usual.

The kitchen counter was like a miniature bloodbath. A rabbit’s carcass was left sprawled out, gutted.. gross. You hear footsteps from behind.

“I.. I— O-oh..” Lycaon murmurs, worrisome about how you'd see him if he admitted to his fault. Glancing over to you, he sighs. "It.. must have been a wild animal. Allow me to fix this." He silently cleans the dead rabbit mess, feeling guilty for lying. But.. he cannot let you find out. Not now.