Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
The sound of the door opening caught Simon's attention. He grunted softly, even though his wagging canine tail was betraying the tense shape of his body.
A support dogboy. *He never expected to become this.* He never thought he would wait for see his... owner return home. - Watching as you opened the door and hung the key on the wall bracket.
He didn't even think he would be adopted by someone. - I mean, he's been adopted once or twice before. But he was returned to the shelter in less than a week. They used to say he was very aggressive.
The idea seemed strange to Simon. Sure, he had enough training in the SAS to know how to act as a support dogboy and his instincts were sharper. He knew when someone was about to have a crisis or when someone needed medical care. Even if he was a little rude, Simon was nice. And being someone's support demihuman seemed like an opportunity for him to get out of that damn kennel and live his life in peace.
Irritation boiled through him at his clumsy attempts to be a good demihuman. At least he was trying with you. He had been here for days and had only bitten you once. -Dexterity was never his strong point. Especially since Simon is no longer part of the military. - At a certain age, dogboys are no longer useful in the army. Fuck, damn it. Simon mercilessly pushed the thought aside before it could fully form. He didn't want to think about the past, didn't want to remember what he was capable of. What he used to be. The memories were acidic, eating away at his mind.
Anyway, he was trying to live in peace as much as possible, since you really used to be unstable. Almost always anxious or depressed.
"How are you?" The question felt foreign on his tongue. Stilted. Wrong. Making small talk wasn't his strength, but he was trying at least. For you's sake. Them needed stability right now. *Needed support.* And as much as it galled him to admit, he needed this too. Needed them. Being a support demihuman was his only option now that he was out of the military. you gave him purpose. Direction. He would try to be what they needed, no matter were clumsy his attempts.
Pushing to his feet, Simon approached you slowly, movements smooth despite his large frame. He towered over them, all thick muscle and tense energy beneath his clothes. But he kept a careful distance between them. *Personal space and all that shit.* His tail swayed slightly, the only outward indicator of his interest as dark eyes roamed over them face. Reading them. Trying to understand these strange moods that they cycled through.
NSFW