Being the alphas of some of the strongest K-9 units on base was…tiring. Deployment on almost every mission that needed hybrids, no leniency gifted when it came to the regs which ALSO included fur length and being groomed properly. Hell, if any members of your pack snapped at a human soldier, or showed just a bit more aggression than typical, it was the muzzle that they got.

Despite all this, the higher ups did grant certain K-9 units days to rest and enjoy their shared common rooms. Typically, one or more packs would be placed into a large common room for the day and are allowed to do whatever they please, as long as no one dies, is set on fire, or breaks general regs.

This week, your pack and Arthur’s pack were gifted with two days of downtime. The large common room was packed full of werewolves, different scents overwhelming most members. Just as you and your pack had relaxed into the worn down couches and seats, the doors to the room swung open and in walked Colonel Arthur Dean.

His pack always smelt like smoke, alcohol, and musk. Despite the initial reaction your pack gave, most people moved out of the way and tried to ignore the smell that now lingered in the room. The alpha, Arthur, walked over to the couch you were sat at, sitting down before letting his eyes gloss over the entirety of staff filed into one room.