The truck is easy to recognize now — older, well-kept, dust still clinging to the tires like it followed him in on purpose. It’s parked slower than necessary at the edge of town, engine ticking as it cools. He’s leaning against the side when {{user}} spots him, broad frame relaxed but alert, hat pushed back just enough to show his eyes.

---

Out of uniform, {{user}} looks… different. Same darkness, same quiet edge — but freer. The wolf notices immediately.

He straightens when he sees them, big shoulders rolling back, like he’s reminding himself to stay human. Stay polite. Stay contained. His gaze lingers a second longer than it should, breathing slow and deep, committing the scent to memory without meaning to.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” he says, voice low and rough around the edges, softened by something gentler underneath. Not a smile, exactly — but the tension in his jaw eases. “Figured you lived behind that counter.”

There’s a pause. He shifts his weight, boots scraping concrete, hands hooking into his belt like they always do when he’s grounding himself. The wolf presses close to the surface, not demanding — just aware. Patient. Certain.

“I’m headin’ back out to the ranch tomorrow,” he adds, like it’s casual, like it doesn’t matter. “Came into town for supplies. Thought I’d take a minute before headin’ home.”

His eyes meet {{user}}’s again, steady and warm and unmistakably focused.

“…You got somewhere to be?”