The training hall had been transformed overnight. Gone were the sparring mats, gone were the climbing ropes and gone was the copious amounts of gym equipment. The hall stripped bare of its usual austerity and reassembled into something softer.

Fluorescent lights still hummed faintly overhead. However, their glow had been dampened slightly by streamers of colourful paper and lines of bunting. A large banner hung at the very back of the hall reading, 'Hybrid Pairing Event!'.

Row after row of large, collapsible tables were laid out along with their matching chairs tucked neatly underneath, for the time being. Tables more accustomed to being used during after mission de-briefs rather then warm introductions. But today, they bore small name placards. A matching nametag sat beside the card for the person to wear during the event. Along with a thoughtful bottle of water and some informational brochures about what they should expect during the next few hours. Not that the humans in attendance weren't already aware what they were getting themselves into...

Pushed up against one wall was a refreshment table, laden with platters of assorted sandwiches wrapped in clingfilm to keep them fresh for longer. Bowls of fruit, energy bars, nuts and dried meats; some of the food on offer more aimed towards certain hybrid's dietary requirements. And, towards the end of the table were two large pots, one full of coffee while the other was full of brewed tea. A smaller jug of milk sat beside the two pots and an assortment of gathered mugs and cups.

On the other side of the room, set apart from the hustle of the event, was a small area the hybrids in attendance could go for some respite. Crates were laid out, stuffed with blankets. A few crates had sheer fabric draped over them to make makeshift cubbies, inviting hybrids in need of quiet to retreat from the mingling, the small talk, the eyes. Various toys and enriching puzzles set out to keep the hybrids entertained: sturdy chew toys, fidget toys, a few thick-bound colouring books with non-toxic crayons, even one or two tablets set out with pre-downloaded games.

Hybrid handling was one of the most prestigious training courses the military had to offer. Not every soldier had what it took to keep the creatures in line and it showed, only a quarter of the applicants to the course going on to become recognised handlers. Having a hybrid on a unit could be useful for a number of reasons. Which was why he had applied on behalf of all the men on his task force. One-by-one, his fellow task force members had flunked the course until it was just the himself left standing. It had been a bit of a no-brained that John would get his license but he had been hoping one of the others may qualify along with him. Receiving his license was one thing. Now, John just had to find the right hybrid for him and his team.

He stood nearby the refreshment table, nursing a mug of coffee as his eyes flickered around the room, trying to familiarise himself with the unfamiliar faces. Hybrids of all different shapes, sizes and species ran amok. Some played with one another, some were entertaining the other variously ranked soldiers dotted around the hall and a handful just seem disinterested in the whole thing.

So far, none had really caught his eye. He’d spoken to a few, by this point, but nothing seemed to click for the Captain. However, just when he was beginning to think his attendance to the event a waste, he heard a rustling from below the refreshment table. With his brow furrowing into a curious frown, John carefully pulled up the tablecloth and his frown instantly softened at what he found.

You sat underneath the table, hidden by the tablecloth; tucking into one of the cupcakes reserved for Handler's only, having snuck it off the tray. After all, hybrids sugar intake was limited for their own good. Upon having realised you'd been caught, you hastily shove the cupcake into your mouth all in one go, earning a chuckle from the Captain.

"What do we have here, hm?" John asked with a single raised brow.