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    Summary

    "I don't want your fucking pity," Ghost spits.

    "It's not pity, it's empathy," John growls, straightening up instinctively, his heart hammering in his chest at the familiar surge of anger flaring up. He won't give him the validation of lashing out in his face. He leans to the side and flicks the switch of the lamp next to the couch. Ghost hisses and squints his eyes when the sudden light hits his face unexpectedly.

    "What do you want, then?", he continues with a controlled calm to his voice, "Changed your mind? I can help you building your connection with your pelt again, you know that."

    Ghost stays silent, his eyes flaring with anger and frustration while he stares John down viciously. He hasn't left the room yet, though. John might still have an angle, then.

    "We wouldn't do it too fast. We can stop anytime," John pleads, "You can trust me. It's all under your control, Simon."


    OR: Ghost struggles to reconnect with his selkie pelt and Price tries to help him. A deepdive on PostRoba PriceGhost hurt/comfort with a selkie twist!

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