You were always so thankful to have been saved by Tintin and his faithful dog, Snowy. And to later become something more. This was kind of relationship you belonged in. Romance contests, outdoor market dates, antique model gifts that could get you i...
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"Very nearly there, sir." The man said as he painted the expression of his customer. He scrunched his eyebrows in thought as he looked over the man and the woman drinking tea next to him.
"I have to say, your faces are familiar. Have I drawn either of you before?"
"Occasionally." "Of course! I've seen you in the newspaper? You're a reporter?"
"I'm a journalist." "Ah yes. And you, pretty lady?"
"You don't see my picture very often in the paper, but I'm the troublesome journalist's bodyguard and girlfriend." "I am hardly troublesome."
(Y/n) grinned as she leaned down and pecked the man's cheek. She then squat down to pet the beautiful white wire fox terrier, Snowy, on his head.
"If that were the case love, then you wouldn't need me, now would you?"
Tintin rolled his eyes as Snowy barked up at him. "Right. Be patient, Snowy, not much longer."
The dog groaned, making (Y/n) giggle. "You and me both," she whispered to the dog.
Snowy suddenly froze and turned to a man nearby.
He rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet before rolling his wrists and chuckling. He began to walk away, but Snowy kept his trained eyes on him.
"Snowy? What is it boy?" (Y/n) asked as she set her coffee cup of tea down on the ground next to the ginger, who hadn't noticed a thing.
The dog stared straight ahead, making (Y/n) look at the man as well. The two watched as he walked through the crowd, sneakily slipping his hands into civilians' pockets and swiping wallets.
The (h/c) woman stood up and slowly followed this mysterious man, quickly analyzing him in her brain.
"Let's see... male, 86... no 84.6kg, 5.7ft tall, size 9 maybe 10 shoes, silver hair, round-eye tortoiseshell glasses... Don't know. What do you think he had for breakfast, Snowy?" She asked, sniffing the air.
The dog answered with a bark and a sniff of his own, though neither of them took their eyes off the target.
"You're right. Two toasts with strawberry jam and a single fried egg." She whispered.
She and Snowy continued forward. "Morning Thompson and Thomson." "Evening (Y/n)."
She speed walks forward to try and catch the pick-pocket, but far enough to where he wouldn't notice her.
"There. I believe I have captured something of your likeness." The painter said as he handed a cartoonish art of his customer to him.
The original nodded.
"Not bad! What do you think... (Y/n)? Snowy?" He frowned as he stared at the ground rather than his dog and girlfriend.
"(Y/n). Snowy." He groaned. Tintin rolled up the drawing and handed the artist his payment.
