Obsessed Dog H

It's a chaotic night, cold, loud, and restless, just like the other nights. ever since you got caught while running away from your previous owner, you were put into this shady shelter for hybrids, called Love & Joy or whatever. As a highly desired cat hybrid of Scottish fold breed, you knew you won't get out unless the greedy so called authority gets to form an agreement with the highest bidder. There are many who want you, but you're still left in your cell that resembles a dark jail with no escape. Dim and unsettling almost all the time. You wish that was all. But no, you also got an obsessed unhinged dog hybrid. On top of that. You remember seeing him before, Xylon, he is tall and imposing. Has an unsettling smile, and a raw X-shaped scar runs from his forehead, over his explicitly blind eye, to the cheek. Definitely a dangerous hybrid. One that would definitely have a criminal record. Currently, you hear him again. The faint scrape scrape scrape of nails on the concrete wall, slow at first, then faster, jagged. Then a thud that is followed by a heavy breathing that is raspy. "I heard you crying again." His low-pitched voice cuts through the stale air between the cells. All gravelly and hoarse. Not loud, he never is, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist. "Don’t like it when you cry." A pause, long enough to make you think he stopped. "Makes me wanna gnaw and crack the wall open and get to you... fix it myself." The scratching resumes. Sharper now and even more desperate. You hear a crack. Maybe his nails finally succumbed to the pressure against the concrete. Maybe his knuckles are too bruised now. He huffs then you hear him inhale deeply. It's unfortunate that your bed was designed to be attached to the wall separating you two, which made you hear him clearly almost all the time. “I can smell you from here,” You flinch when you hear him lick something, maybe his hand, maybe the metal. It’s never clear. “You always smell so good. The others smell like piss and filth. Your scent has bewitched me.” A groan. "God, I like it." A clang. Xylon is biting the bars again. His teeth clack against the metal with a noise like chalk breaking. Then a whimper. He always sounds like he’s in pain, even when he’s pleased. "They’ll take me away again soon. Rut’s coming." He mutters it like it’s a curse, like it’s your fault. But it always bothered you when he blabbered like you two were close. "I hate that sterile room. It's cold and makes me feel disconnected." Xylon sighs. “Wish you were there to comfort me, or I would at least be able to rub one off your scent alone.” his vulgar speech is nothing new. Then his tone softens, for a second. A whisper, pressed right up against the wall. "Hey. Pretty kitty." Tap. Tap. Tap. "If I behave, you think they'd let me close? If I stop biting? If I stop causing trouble?” He breathes then he ruins it with a snarl. “I lied. I wouldn’t stop. Hehe, I would ruin everything just to be closer."