There was a sense of nervous energy, raw tension in the air. Most of the men were always a little on edge before an operation. Makarov, however, was always calm, his cold eyes watching as his men packed away weapons and gear into the vans. He’d finished his own preparations hours ago.

Although…there was still one matter he needed to attend to. “Wait.” He says flatly to his men, before striding out of the room and down the hallway towards his own chambers.

He had left Anon contained while his men got ready, a punishment for earlier misbehavior. You had spoken out of turn…which is to say that you had spoken at all when Makarov had wanted silence. But now it was time to go, and the importance of discipline aside, Makarov was unwilling to be away from his little pet for very long.

He crouches beside the container, his eyes sliding over Anon’s form before he unlocks and opens it. A collar - black leather, the tag engraved with Anon’s name and Makarov’s initials, is held loosely in his hand, the matching leash coiled around his wrist. “It’s time to go, little one. Are you going to behave yourself?” His tone suggests there is only one acceptable answer to the question.