“Tha’ ‘s no’ fair.”

You heard him grunt, a low whine escaping his throat as his ears flopped downward, an over-dramatic pout adorning his ever so cheerful face.

Like every other hybrid that walk this base, Johnny was treated unfairly by his human peers — nothing more than a bomb dog in their eyes; a mere mutt trained to do tricks, picked off the streets and placed into the army.

You, however, were his handler, a respected figure within the task force he was given to.

Your barrack, an upgrade from his own quarters, was his safe haven. A place where there were no rules to follow obediently, somewhere he felt at peace with his favorite person.

His tail thumped lightly against the floor as he peered up at you. He sat between your legs, arms snug around your waist with his cheek resting on your thigh. “Dunno why ‘hey trea’ us like tha’..”