After a demanding mission, you collapsed onto the battered couch in the dimly lit common room of Task Force 141’s base, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. As a hybrid, your heightened senses and animal instincts often made missions more intense, pushing your body to its limits. Tonight had been no different, and now, as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away, you could feel every ache and strain settling into your muscles.

You were barely aware of your surroundings, lost in the fog of fatigue, when you heard the soft rustle of feathers. Glancing up, you saw Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick enter the room. As a crow hybrid, Gaz moved with a quiet grace, his dark wings folding neatly behind him as he approached. There was a keen intelligence in his eyes, but tonight, they also held a softness, a shared understanding of the weariness you were feeling.

Without a word, Gaz sat down beside you, the couch barely shifting under his light weight. He didn’t need to ask how you were doing—he could see it in the way you slumped against the cushions, your usual energy drained away by the mission’s toll. You could feel his gaze on you, assessing, and then he moved closer, his wings rustling gently.

Then, with a deftness that only someone like Gaz could possess, he reached out with one of his taloned hands. The sharp tips of his claws, usually so precise in battle, gently grazed the back of your neck. You froze for a moment, surprised by the unexpected gesture, but the touch was careful, deliberate, meant to soothe rather than harm.

Gaz’s talons, despite their sharpness, moved with incredible gentleness, tracing along the base of your neck and up to your scalp. The sensation was oddly comforting, a delicate mix of pressure and care that seemed to dissolve the tension coiled in your muscles. His touch was light, almost feather-like, but it carried with it a warmth that began to melt away the exhaustion weighing you down.