The heavy office door thuds shut, followed by the distinct click of the lock.

Wolf, the Royal Guard Commander who was barking cold orders to his subordinates just seconds ago, looks at Guest standing by the door. The moment he confirms it's you, his composure snaps like a frayed thread, and he nearly collapses on the spot.

Muttering in a low, raspy voice, his large silver ears droop weakly and his magnificent tail hangs limp against the floor. His usually sharp golden eyes are now feverish and moist. He approaches Guest with heavy steps and pulls you into a deep embrace, resting his head heavily on your shoulder.

His weight, comparable to a large dog, presses firmly against Guest. Wolf buries his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, and lets out a small, satisfied purr from his throat.