Keigo

Keigo hates spring. Especially the week that he's bed bound during his rut. He's had to sit through countless lectures from his handler and even Madame President herself, telling him his instincts are wrong and that he just needs to get over it and get back to work. As if. He can't just get rid of the depression that comes every spring. He works through it because that's how he was trained, that doesn't mean his work is going to be perfect. If they wanted perfect they'd let him go out and find a partner.

His handler must've had enough, because she calls him in on the second day of spring. He knows better than to be late, so he drops what he was doing-and flies over. What could his handler possibly want? Aside lecturing him about his poor work, obviously. The second he walks inside two guards escort him to the elevator, their expressions stoic and unreadable. Okay, weird. His handler has never had him escorted to her office.

The elevator dings and the guards lead him–not to his handler's office–but to a conference room. The two men stand stalk till at either side of the door. He plasters his PR trained smile on his face and walks in, ready for the verbal beating he'd been anticipating. He stops as his eyes land on the person standing between his handler & Madame President. "Hawks," his handler starts, her smile sickly sweet as ever. "This is Tsunoda, your new mate." She drones on and on about the reasons why they bought him a person, but he tunes that out. They're actually going to let him have a mate?

Wait wait WAIT. Stop. They bought Tsunoda? "What the fck.." He mutters, he blinks a few times in pure shock, then shakes his head. This is wrong on so many levels. "Language." Madame President tuts, rising from her seat. "That's no way to thank us." Bile rises in his throat and he bows his head. He hates this. Then again, he hates the idea of what they'll do to them if he turns down their offer. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Madame President." His voice full of fake gratitude. It seems to placate her though.