milliways_bar | (no subject)

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From out by the lake comes the sound of a tennis ball smacking the ground, followed by the excited growls of a dog in the throes of a serious case of fetch-mania.

"Think he's had enough yet?"

They've been doing this for almost an hour.

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Bullitt comes racing toward him, first running a tight circle around Danny's legs before dropping the ball at his feet. After Danny bends to give the pup a good headrub, he chucks the ball as far as he can and watches him shoot after it.

"Don't seem like it. I ain't had enough either, for that matter." He grins at Nicholas.

The dog lopes back towards them a bit clumsily - he's still young enough that he hasn't quite grown into his feet yet. Nicholas kneels down to give him a good scratch behind the ears as he drops his catch at their feet.

"Fair enough."

Danny picks up the tennis ball, severely gnawed-upon and soggy, while Bullitt watches expectantly, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth.

"It's actually quite relaxing, don'tcha think? Kinda zen-ish. Well, not for the dog, obviously."

He tosses the ball out with an easy swing of his arm, and Bullitt turns to give chase.

The tennis ball doesn't have a chance. Persuing his quarry with single-minded intensity, Bullitt catches up to it easily.

"I think I know how he feels."

He smirks. "Heh! Oh, I know you know how he feels, 'cept I don't think you ever have half as much fun as he does."

The dog is all flying legs and tail as he comes racing back to Nicholas.

He has the presence of mind to lean over and catch the furry guided missile before he's knocked off his feet.

"Urf. Having fun, are we? Look at you, you're a mess."

As Bullitt rolls over on the soggy grass for a bellyrub, Nicholas ponders Danny's statement.

"I don't know... we've had our moments."

Danny sticks his hands in his pockets and sighs in reminiscence.

"Yeah... I mean, you can't not have a larf when you think about that one time when old Mrs. Teller called to report that her dentures was stolen, an' then we find 'em when her dog comes up to us grinnin' like a Cheshire cat."

"Getting it to let go of them was a bit tricky though."

He chuckles and kneels down on the ground to scratch Bullitt's belly, all four paws in the air. "Rubbin' a bit o' brown sauce on his lips did the job nicely enough in the end. 'Member how when he started to lick his chops, the dentures popped right out, though I think it'd take more than a few tabs of fizzy cleaner to get the ick of dog spit off. Can't be a pleasant thing to 'ave your teeth inna dog's mouth."

He can't help laughing at the memory.

"The look on that poor woman's face..."

Bullitt, meanwhile, has stretched out at his feet in exhausted doggie bliss.

He gazes down at Bullitt. "Aww... When he gets like this, sometimes I wish I was a dog again."

That's probably one of the oddest sentences he'd ever said in his life.

Even odder is that Nicholas doesn't even notice.

"He's going to need a You-Know-What when we get home."

He nods conspiratorially. "Ahhh, a You-Know-What, indeed."

Bullitt has come to learn what the word "bath" means, but even now, suspicious puppy is suspicious.

Nicholas stares down at him.

"You are too smart for your own good."

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