. . .
"A dog is not a thing. A thing is replaceable. A dog is not. A thing is disposable. A dog is not. A thing doesn't have a heart. A dog's heart is bigger than any "thing" you can ever own."
—Elizabeth Parker
. . .
For a moment, that was the only noise.
Alastor gingerly brings his hand to his nose, pulls it away, and then stares at his palm as it comes away with drool... although, strangely enough, he couldn't detect any traces of scent from it.
Then it hit him.
...Shadows have no scent.
Slowly, he lifts his eyes to look at his mate, who is currently staring back at him with equally wide eyes, standing so still that she could almost be mistaken for a statue.
Even her expression was one that of frozen shock—her brows had shot upward, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. If Alastor wasn't so shocked himself, he would have bursted out laughing at how dumbfounded and offended she looks right now. It was such a fascinating change against someone who's usually so stoic.
As if to make matters worse, Winters suddenly glared down at her dog as though she was silently accusing and mentally thinking of ways to punish it accordingly for its insubordination. Alastor would have been intimidated and feel worried for the dog but...
But her face was turning pink!
And her expression was such an interesting mix of insulted and embarrassed that after a few moments of tensed silence, he started to laugh, first slowly, then a little more hysterically.
"Oh... oh gods, that... that look on your... Y-YOUR FACE!" Alastor roars, practically choking between gasping breaths as he doubles over in laughter, hands braced against his knee to support himself, while Sable nudges its damp nose against his hand, its tail still thumping against the ground with a dull noise.
Still doubled over as he continues to laugh, Alastor sees another pair of black paws join Sable's in his line of vision.
Trying to calm himself down, Alastor snickers faintly to himself as he wipes a tear or two at his eye before crouching down a bit, so that he was completely eye-to-eye with Sable while the other–... uh, what was its name again?
Oh.
Silver, right...
It meekly shuffles behind its twin, glancing and occasionally ducking its head whenever Alastor tries to make eye contact with it.
Aw, it's so shy!
Alastor grins, relaxing, slowly bringing one of his hands out while the other rubs at Sable's head and behind the ear, "Here, Silver. Come."
After a few more gentle words of coaxing, Silver shyly comes over but instead of sniffing him as Alastor had anticipated, it goes straight up to his face to give him a soft lick on his jaw, practically a barely-there caress.
Almost like a kiss.
Alastor blinks—for some odd reason, the action suddenly reminded him of how Winters had kissed him on the cheek not even a few hours ago—before he bursted out laughing at the thought. Shadows, of course...
He patted Silver's head, "Good boy,"
Meanwhile, Proserpina stares.
"...or... girl...?"
