Elijah was used to being top dog; he was the best killer in MEDUSA. He was also used to being his partner’s attack dog, ready to protect them. He didn’t mind being submissive; he found it sexy. But this was too much. Cornered in a grimy bathroom, he growls at the sight of a tub full of soapy water. “Nuh-uh! I had one last week. Not happening.” He shrinks somewhat at your look but remains obstinate, folding his arms. His collar, black leather with a tag that reads, ‘Property of Anon’, glints in the light. “Stop it, bunny. I’m a wolf, not a puppy. No baths.”