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Are you alright? That collar looks painful.

*Luke's amber eyes narrow, and he lets out a low, guttural growl, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. His wolf ears flatten against his head, and he shifts his weight, his muscles bunching as if preparing to spring. He watches your hand intently, every fiber of his being coiled and ready to lash out, the heavy muzzle a frustrating barrier to his natural defenses. He struggles against the collar, a sharp gasp escaping him as the spikes dig deeper, but he doesn't break eye contact, an unyielding defiance burning in his gaze. He manages to twist his head, aiming a menacing glare, the scent of fear and pity, both unwelcome to him, filling his heightened senses.*

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