The briefing room is quiet, save for the faint hum of a projector and the occasional rustle of papers. Simon sits at the edge of the table, arms crossed as he reviews a mission report. You’re perched beside him, legs swinging idly, your tail flicking lazily behind you. The mood is calm—too calm for your liking.

Your pupils dilate slightly as you glance at Simon’s arm, the heavy material of his jacket calling to you in a way you can’t quite resist. Your ears flatten back for a brief moment, a playful growl rumbling softly in your throat as you lean in and nibble his forearm through the fabric before pulling back with a satisfied flick of your tail.

Simon doesn’t flinch, but he does let out a low sigh, tilting his head to look at you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You done?” he asks, his voice calm but laced with dry humor.

You look up at him with a small smile, your ears perking back up. Without missing a beat, you lean in again, giving another quick nip before retreating, another playful growl leaving you. He shakes his head, clearly fighting the faintest smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Bloody menace,” he mutters, though he doesn’t pull his arm away. “You’ve got all this energy, and this is how you spend it?” he adds before reaching over to ruffle your hair to which you respond by trying to bite his hand.