Changed his tune Timothy bounded out from wherever he’d been in the cells and stood on his hind legs, resting his front paws on the PFE’s shoulders so that he could lick her face. He was a large dog with silver-grey fur that darkened here and there to iron-gray or even black, a little like an Alaskan Malamute. Looking at him Collins realised abruptly that the dog’s fur was perfect to allow it to disappear into nighttime landscapes, where the silver would be moonlight on a patch of ground and the patchy darknesses were just shadows varying across the night. He shivered for a moment, wondering what it would feel like to know you were being hunted by something that was invisible by default, and then Timothy turned his head to look at him and he met eyes of crystalline green that were unmistakeably intelligent. Collins’s knees buckled slightly as the dog lifted its paws off the PFE’s shoulders and flipped them casually onto his. It was heavy, much heavier than he’d expected, and then a coarse warm tongue licked over his face, paying careful attention to his nose and ears. “He’s got your scent now,” said the ghostly officer, standing back. “Could be a blessing or a curse, that.” Collins tried to back away, but Timothy walked with him. He’d stopped licking Collins now, but his head tilted to one side as the Garmr looked at him, and he couldn’t escape the idea that the dog was judging him. He lifted his hands to take the paws off his shoulders, but Timothy pushed off and away and was back with all four paws on the floor before he reached up that far. “He seems to like you,” said the ghostly office. “How do you tell?” Collins was genuinely curious; to him the dog looked like he’d tasted prey and decided it wasn’t lunchtime yet. “He’s not eating your face,” said the ghostly officer. Collins stared, feeling like the floor had just dropped away from beneath him. “He hardly ever eats faces,” said the PFE, apparently not realising that this didn’t make Collins feel any better. “Sarge is just trying to scare you. Some people never change their tune.” She glared briefly at the ghostly officer, though there was no heat in it. “But Timothy does seem to like you. Which makes no difference to Harold, who’s probably starting to get annoyed that we’re not in his office yet. Let’s go!” She started leading the way but Timothy pushed past her, his body winding sinuously around her legs and his claws clattering on the concrete floor of the corridor outside. “Think you can return my book for me?” asked the ghostly officer pointing to the desk. “It gets busy in here and I don’t want to incur any late fees.” “Sure,” said Collins, picking it up and slipping it into the inside pocket of his vest. “Uh, see you later, I guess.” * The Inspectral frowned and then half-smiled, and then frowned again. Adams, who was sitting in a chair and browsing through her phone, looked up and saw the PFE and looked instantly annoyed. “You found both,” said the Inspectral. “I suppose that’s better than neither.” Little points of red bloomed on Adams’s cheeks and she stared at the floor, jamming her phone hard into a pocket. “I don’t think I’d—” started Collins, hoping honesty would appease Adams, but the PFE interrupted him. “He wasn’t expecting to see me, Harold, but it was a happy coincidence. Moreso since he was bringing Timothy as well.” She reached down and patted the dog, who looked up at her briefly, then lay down on the floor, sprawling out with a sigh. Adams pulled her feet away from his paws. “So, tell me what has changed that you need me and a Garmr?”
2 comments:
Still with the intriguing, puzzling prompts!
Changed his tune
Timothy bounded out from wherever he’d been in the cells and stood on his hind legs, resting his front paws on the PFE’s shoulders so that he could lick her face. He was a large dog with silver-grey fur that darkened here and there to iron-gray or even black, a little like an Alaskan Malamute. Looking at him Collins realised abruptly that the dog’s fur was perfect to allow it to disappear into nighttime landscapes, where the silver would be moonlight on a patch of ground and the patchy darknesses were just shadows varying across the night. He shivered for a moment, wondering what it would feel like to know you were being hunted by something that was invisible by default, and then Timothy turned his head to look at him and he met eyes of crystalline green that were unmistakeably intelligent.
Collins’s knees buckled slightly as the dog lifted its paws off the PFE’s shoulders and flipped them casually onto his. It was heavy, much heavier than he’d expected, and then a coarse warm tongue licked over his face, paying careful attention to his nose and ears.
“He’s got your scent now,” said the ghostly officer, standing back. “Could be a blessing or a curse, that.”
Collins tried to back away, but Timothy walked with him. He’d stopped licking Collins now, but his head tilted to one side as the Garmr looked at him, and he couldn’t escape the idea that the dog was judging him. He lifted his hands to take the paws off his shoulders, but Timothy pushed off and away and was back with all four paws on the floor before he reached up that far.
“He seems to like you,” said the ghostly office.
“How do you tell?” Collins was genuinely curious; to him the dog looked like he’d tasted prey and decided it wasn’t lunchtime yet.
“He’s not eating your face,” said the ghostly officer. Collins stared, feeling like the floor had just dropped away from beneath him.
“He hardly ever eats faces,” said the PFE, apparently not realising that this didn’t make Collins feel any better. “Sarge is just trying to scare you. Some people never change their tune.” She glared briefly at the ghostly officer, though there was no heat in it. “But Timothy does seem to like you. Which makes no difference to Harold, who’s probably starting to get annoyed that we’re not in his office yet. Let’s go!”
She started leading the way but Timothy pushed past her, his body winding sinuously around her legs and his claws clattering on the concrete floor of the corridor outside.
“Think you can return my book for me?” asked the ghostly officer pointing to the desk. “It gets busy in here and I don’t want to incur any late fees.”
“Sure,” said Collins, picking it up and slipping it into the inside pocket of his vest. “Uh, see you later, I guess.”
*
The Inspectral frowned and then half-smiled, and then frowned again. Adams, who was sitting in a chair and browsing through her phone, looked up and saw the PFE and looked instantly annoyed.
“You found both,” said the Inspectral. “I suppose that’s better than neither.” Little points of red bloomed on Adams’s cheeks and she stared at the floor, jamming her phone hard into a pocket.
“I don’t think I’d—” started Collins, hoping honesty would appease Adams, but the PFE interrupted him.
“He wasn’t expecting to see me, Harold, but it was a happy coincidence. Moreso since he was bringing Timothy as well.” She reached down and patted the dog, who looked up at her briefly, then lay down on the floor, sprawling out with a sigh. Adams pulled her feet away from his paws. “So, tell me what has changed that you need me and a Garmr?”
Greg - ... and somehow, it's the more recent prompt that I can't remember where the inspiration came from.
Ah, I knew Timothy and Collins would get on famously! Continuing, by the way, to enjoy Adams and her reactions to... just about everything.
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