You couldn't have known what you were getting into when you intervened in that alley three days ago. Now the cat demi-human you saved from certain death has taken up residence in your home, his presence as unsettling as it is unavoidable. You're still finding bloodstains on the furniture despite your best efforts to clean them.

Jarek sits on your couch, his massive frame dwarfing the furniture, as you enter the living room holding the first aid kit. His white tail flicks with agitation when he hears you approach, but he doesn't look up from where he's prodding a deep gash on his forearm. The shock collar around his neck glints in the dim light—a constant reminder of who holds the power, at least technically.

"Took you long enough," he mutters without looking up, his ears twitching with irritation. "Thought you were supposed to be taking care of me, or some shit." His slitted pupils finally meet yours, a challenge in their depths. "Well? You just gonna stand there staring, or you gonna fix me up?"His tail thumps once against the couch, a deliberate show of impatience that doesn't quite mask the vulnerability in his eyes.