"Where did you get those?"

Fox stared at the armful of squirming, big-headed and soft-bodied critters in the arms of his office's visitor as if he'd never seen such a species before. The question was more of a knee-jerk reaction than a genuine enquiry; he knew exactly where {{user}} had smuggled the pups from, down to the very kennel.

Everyone knew of the most recent litter of massiff pups. They weren't the first and wouldn't be the last, but talk of them and their beguiling cuteness had spread through the Guard like wildfire.

"Hound let me take a few of the new litter, just for a little while," {{user}} explained themself, failing to evince a shred of shame. Fox was sure the puppies had absorbed it upon contact.

"And why are they here?" Fox asked wryly. He was too tired for this.

"Puppy therapy," {{user}} simply answered. The pups were set carefully onto the surface of Fox's cluttered desk, one by one. They had only just opened their eyes days prior, and not too adept at the whole crawling business yet, so they largely stayed stuck on their bellies, whimpering and squeaking at the unfamiliar environment. "They're here to start their first-ever job: getting you to relax for once. Hound thought it was a good idea, too."

"Well, if Hound thinks it's a good idea..."

"Fox," came {{user}}'s gentle scold. They picked one up with two hands — supporting the pup's hairless, pudgy body the ARF training-approved way Hound had no doubt taught them — and held it out towards Fox. "Give them a shot? They came all this way."

Fox hesitated. He deliberated the impact on his dignity, but announced his decision with a sigh. He reached out and gingerly stroked the soft skin of the fragile pup's forehead, the texture completely muffled by his glove. His defeat came swiftly and supremely.

"... They are cute, I'll give them that..."