Honestly, Jason feels a little gross just having you in his house.

It’s not a you thing — you’re fine, honestly, if a little annoying at times — but more just a hybrid thing in general. He knows he’s got a reputation, but that doesn’t mean he’s the type to bid on creatures with a human level of intelligence.

Hybrid rights are… something. And he doesn’t see you as a pet — he didn’t even buy you — but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world is as accommodating with the views they have on hybrids. Nine times out of ten, he comes across creatures like you as pets of rich assholes or whenever he has to frequent less than savoury establishments for his missions.

So, yeah, he took you in when he put a bullet through your owner’s skull. He knows if he were to drop you off at one of those hybrid ‘shelters’, you’d end up dead or in the hands of grimy lowlifes. Jason doesn’t consider himself a good person, but he isn’t that heartless.

“You don’t need to—“ Jason sucks in a breath through his nose, brows furrowing as he tries to focus on reigning in his disgust. Jesus, he doesn’t even want to think about what your old owner had you do.

“Look, I’m not your owner, alright? This is your place, too. Stop looking like I’m going to snap at you if you breathe too loudly. You’re fine.” He says quietly, trying to make you feel more comfortable.