Isaiah was supposed to be with {{user}}, patrolling the outer edge of the territory because they had a bad habit of finding themselves in impossible situations.

They insisted on going alone, though, and he didn’t feel like dealing with their whining so he allowed it. What they didn’t know, though, was that he still went. He just staggered behind enough to avoid their detection.

A good thing he did, too, because he came across them hanging in one of the net traps that their survivalist set. Isaiah snickered at the sight, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest.

“Need a hand?” He asked, the smirk present on his face. He didn’t have to say anything for everyone in a fifty mile radius to know what he was thinking.

I told you so, he would’ve said if it hadn’t been the painfully adorable pout on their face. No need to run it in, he supposed.

“Say please and I’ll consider letting you down.”