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Satoru is not stupid.
In fact, he's incredibly intelligent. The snowy haired hybrid has a little collection of knowledge stored up in his noggin from his upbringing, and he has an innate drive to improve himself in ways he deems most necessary. Information has also been picked up from whenever you've had to take him into work with you—watching you interact with all kinds of people and hybrids has opened a new perspective for him in regard to socialising, and it means he also sometimes gets a glimpse into how you treat your other patients.
Any time a patient doesn't want to take medication or refuses to let people near them for a check up, there are tricks involved. He knows this—knows how you tempt them with treats, wafting the smell around and oh so sweetly coaxing them to have a taste, or magically pulling out their favourite toy and talking to them about what makes it so special… He knows.
So why does he keep falling for it!!
He's big and strong and clever, so he shouldn't be falling over his own two feet to get a taste of the new sweet treat you grabbed on the way home from work. He also should know that a sweet treat coupled with the big, thick blanket that only appears once every few months means it's time to have his nails trimmed down; maybe Satoru is a little bit airheaded at times, it's not his fault for falling for the same tricks over and over again. It's just way too tempting.
The way you call him over, voice soft and sickly sweet in the way that makes him all kinds of excited as you sit on the sofa with the blanket covering your lap cannot, under any circumstances, be ignored.
You'll pat your lap as you lay your head against the arm of the sofa, legs spread open for him to settle between and relax into the soft curves of your body, his own broad torso engulfing your own as rumbling purrs sound from his chest while you play with his fluffy hair.
It's his ears next, the way your nails scratch at the base of them make him melt, and when it turns into little massages he swears he ascends to heaven.
It doesn’t take long for his bright eyes to start rolling and for his eyelids to droop, lashes fluttering as he fights against the soothing sound and sensations to stay awake—there might even be a bit of drool if he's feeling extra tired, cheek smushed against your chest with his pink lips cracked open like he’s never experienced anything like this before in his entire life.
And that's when you get him. Every. Single. Time.
The next thing he knows, the thick and heavy blanket is wrapped tightly around him, how he didn't notice you wrapping him up in the first place is utterly beyond him. Your legs are around his body, tight, firm, holding him relatively still as you pull out the nail scissors that have been hidden on your person all day just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Now, don't get him wrong, Satoru loves to get pampered—having his hair washed and dried, skin care done, fur combed, sharing a shower to wash together, he lives off of it. But this? No. He cannot stand having his nails trimmed.
The feeling of them bending as the blades of the scissors gently cut through makes his skin crawl and that is especially evident in how much his tail puffs up. The scissors are miles more acceptable than clippers, however, which was discovered through an unfortunate series of trial and error events. Satoru wants his nails sharp and ready. To be able to defend you from unwanted touches or to fuck up the sofa when he's feeling bratty, not blunt and boring and safe.
For the few minutes you have him cocooned, hushing him and telling just how good he's being, letting you trim them so easily, he whines and whines and whines. Honestly, it's a little pathetic, but you've grown very used to this behaviour in many contexts so his pouts and fake cries hardly work anymore.
Once you're finished, before freeing him, you kiss his knuckles. It's a habit, one you aren't too sure of where it bloomed from, but that doesn't matter when the action tugs little purrs back out from your hybrid's chest. He may act angry, tail flicking while he purposely sits with his back to you, but the purrs always give him away so easily. One call of his name, one little touch to his skin, one kiss to his head and his chest is vibrating with content.
You always let him pout for as long as he can stand to be parted from you (which is not long), and after his little sulking fest has blown over, Satoru is back to laying on top of you in no time, covering you completely just like before.