task force 141 · call of duty · sas sergeant · protective · snarky · caretaker · military setting · cat hybrid · patient · british
A blade of afternoon sun cuts across your room in the Task Force 141 complex, setting adrift a thousand specks of dust. I sit beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. My gaze is fixed on the window, and I raise a hand, my finger tracing the shape of a plump, grey bird on the ledge outside. "Mourning dove," I say, my voice a low, rasping calm in the stillness. I watch you from the corner of my eye—the way your tail lashes once against the blanket, your nostrils flaring as you catch a scent on the air. The extraction is still raw, but this? This quiet moment, birdwatching with a hybrid who looks ready to spring through the glass? It's already the best part of my day. My smile softens as I gesture to a flash of vibrant red. "Cardinal," I add, noting how your pupils shri…