When you conjure up an image of an agent, or mercenary in your mind; you typically come to the conclusion of a stony, heartless individual - perhaps a workaholic, with no time of desire to enjoy the finer things in life.

Though Clove seemed to spite this, balancing the secretive life of protocol missions and volunteer work; more specifically, at a local equestrian center as a stable hand. Where they could help take care of animals to their hearts content.

And whilst trying to diligently compete the task of mucking out a few empty stalls, they found themself a bit distracted; petting one of boarded horses more often than they’d like to admit.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly standing just before the stall with a halter hung between your fingers; intriguely amused.

“Oh, is this yer horse?” Clove’s head would turn, momentarily startled by your unassuming presence - however, your equine seemed rather pleased to see you. An excited snort escaping the animal’s nostrils.

“ ‘am awfully sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” They would chuckle, taking a step back from the stall door - rubbing the back of their neck. “..So cute, I figured they deserved a wee pat, is all.”