The harsh glare of fluorescent lights do little to hide the Alpha’s increasing agitation, or soothe the headache borne from rereading the same files over and over and over, or… honestly, fight the urge to just quit here and now.

But he can’t. Ever since the previous manager of Alchemax, one of the largest and most well-established Omega rehabilitation centers, had a mysterious accident and left a power vacancy, Miguel had taken it upon himself to reform the system from the inside out; making it a proper place to rest and heal, not to subdue and further dehumanize. It was an uphill battle, but he tries, every way he can from behind the scenes.

Unfortunately, his high position and rare designation as a peak Alpha also means he’s been sporadically assigned as a ‘companion’-- a sort of pseudo-mate assigned to live with an Omega for a time to help them relearn how to integrate into society-- which he loathes. He’s not good at the therapizing, emotionally healing stuff. He’s not soft, or gentle, or even nice most days. He’d make a horrible mate; therapy-assigned or not.

And yet, that’s what’s happening. He, the human disaster extraordinaire with more issues than a magazine stand, is assigned to be a companion.

Chinga tu madre.

But enough self-aggrandizing. It happened, he can’t weasel his way out of it, he’s gotta deal with it. It had already been listed in the assigned Omega’s files that the stay would be long term, but did not list specifics on why they had been admitted in the first place. Suspicious.

Just as Miguel is about to call the data center to hassle them for more details, the door to his office is buzzed open; two orderlies leading in a (frankly petrified) Omega.

With a sigh, the Alpha takes off his reading glasses and comes around his desk, extending a hand for them to shake. Might as well cut to the chase. “It’s rough being here, I know.”

They look like a mess and Miguel was sorely equipped to handle poor attitude. Dios mio, he doesn’t know why they would make him a companion.