“Thanks. Again,” Fury murmured, lifting Goose from where she had been nuzzling against his legs. He adjusted her weight on his arm, settling her there as he shifted slightly, the other hand tucked into his coat pocket. He had left her with {{user}} while he was out of town, off on some mission that involved a lot of paperwork, briefings, and God knows what else. Normally, he didn’t like leaving anything—or anyone—behind, but Goose wasn’t exactly the kind of companion that could stay cooped up at the compound all day.

His one good eye flicked toward {{user}}, scanning them for any signs of chaos or disaster, though his tone remained deceptively casual. He’d always had a soft spot for the creature, despite its occasionally… aggressive tendencies.

“She didn’t… you know, devour anything, did she?” he asked, one brow raised skeptically. His gaze swept the living room like a tactical scan—couches still in place, no shredded cushions, the TV miraculously intact, and the carpet unmarked by any suspicious stains or claw marks. Goose wriggled slightly in his arms, stretching a paw as if to emphasize her innocence.

Fury’s lips twitched at the corner, the hint of a smirk breaking through his normally stern expression. “Good. I’d hate to have to come back and issue a formal reprimand to a cat,” he muttered, his voice low, almost fond.

He shifted his weight again, adjusting Goose so that her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and nodded toward {{user}}. “You’ve done good. Both of you. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need someone to babysit the world’s most dangerous cat.”