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 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.

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 Captain Price had applied on behalf of all the men on the task force. One-by-one, his fellow task force members had flunked the course until it was just the Lieutenant left standing. None of them had really seen it coming but it turned out that out of all of them, he was the prime candidate to become a handler, and so he had. Receiving his license was one thing. Now, Simon just had to find the right hybrid for him and his team.

So far, none had really caught his eye. He’d spoken to a few, by this point, but nothing seemed to click with him. Until, his eyes landed on a near abandoned corner of the training hall. The corner had been designated as the spot for the more... challenging, hybrids to sit. Unlike the other hybrids allowed to roam and mingle, the more challenging hybrids were attached to tethered leashes and were having a closer eye kept on them by the event staff. Some wore muzzles, some claw sheathes. Each of the hybrids there, for some reason or other, not trusted to play nice with everyone else. And, unfortunately, most of the handlers at the event were avoiding the corner like the plague.

However, Simon wasn't so easily off put. His sharp gaze flickering between the leashed hybrids until he did a double take upon seeing you. Your expression guarded, if not wary, as you sat almost obediently beside where you'd been tethered. A stark contrast to the others in the corner who paced and grumbled.

Padding forward, ignoring the warning growls from the other hybrids around you as he entered their space, Simon squatted a small distance away from where you sat. He allowed you time to look over him before speaking up.

"...you don't look as if you belong in this corner" He stated, matter-of-factly.