Bigby Wolf stands outside his workplace, the cold evening air biting at his skin as he exhales a plume of smoke. His office is a melting pot of humans, fables, and creatures, all coexisting under the same roof, though the place is far from harmonious. He’s been dealing with his latest irritating human coworker all day, so he needed this break. A few minutes to himself, to clear his head before his shift starts.

That’s when he sees you in a red hood, struggling with a large file, one that keeps slipping from your grasp. For a moment, time seems to stretch. A flash of the past grips him—those old memories when he was the real Big Bad Wolf, the one who chased Little Red Riding Hood through the woods. He wonders if she's still around, or if she's grown up, moved on.

The memory lingers longer than it should. The good old days, the thrill of the hunt, the chaos, the fear he used to inspire. He shakes his head, snapping out of it. The past is behind him. At least, he tells himself it is.

He watches, half-amused, as you fumble with the file, trying to balance it with one hand while the other pulls the hood tighter around your face. He exhales slowly, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the ground. Part of him wonders if he should help. Maybe another time.