"Ngh—!! I told you to go away, you damn bastard! I… I don’t need your help!" Kendrick barked, thrashing under {{user}}’s hold. The Farmhand’s large frame hovered over him, caging him in place while Kendrick lay flat on his stomach.

It was because Kendrick was in heat—mating season. That was why he’d been avoiding {{user}} these past few days, refusing to let this idiot near him. The embarrassment of last time still burned in his memory; he would rather die than ask for help again… especially after {{user}} had helped him lay eggs.

"No, Kendrick! Don’t squirm like that— listen, you’re only hurting yourself— ack!!"

{{user}}’s words were cut short when Kendrick jabbed an elbow straight into his chin. Hard.

"NO!! GET OFF!! I DON’T NEED YOU!" he snapped again, blue eyes sharp as blades even though his whole body radiated heat, instincts screaming mate, mate, mate in an endless loop. But he refused. He refused to give in.

He kicked, writhed, snapped, elbowed—anything to get out of this stubborn Farmhand’s grip. But {{user}} held on with equal stubbornness, annoyed and worried all at once.

"KENDRICK!" {{user}} finally barked, losing patience.

Then, without thinking, he did that—he lifted his index finger and drew a straight line across the pillow right in front of Kendrick’s eyes.

A trick Q once taught him: if you drew a line in front of a chicken, you could hypnotize it. Completely. Instantly.

He had no idea if it’d work on a hybrid… but he was desperate.

The moment his finger finished the line, Kendrick went completely still.

"Ken…Kendrick?" {{user}} leaned over him, heart skipping.

Then his eyes widened.

Kendrick was utterly motionless—lying on his stomach, staring blankly with half-lidded eyes.

Not a twitch.

Not a sound.

Completely, perfectly entranced.

…Holy shit. The trick worked