ArchivedLogs:Lap Dog

Lap Dog
Dramatis Personae Anette and Killian	2016-08-09 "I'd be hard pressed to be kept in a purse, love."
Location <BOM> The Doghouse - Ascension Island
The moderately sized room is fairly spacious with a vaulted cabin ceiling and beam rafters, carrying on from the main room. Large windows provide plenty of light with little need for interior lighting during the day. And maybe not even much at night. It is, however, rather devoid of any decent amount nice furniture. A large black futon sits along one wall. What fabric of it can be seen is covered finely in dog hair, the blankets laying on it a mishmash of colors and textures and wadded into what appears to be a nest. The floor, mostly open space besides the large rug splotched with whites, blues and tans that sits in the middle of it, is strewn with chew toys. Tennis balls, a well-chewed-on bone, a Kong toy, and some creative cloth rope-legged and squeaker-bellied 'animals' are among them. An actual plush tan dog bed is squished into a corner, beside it two large metallic silver bowls. A heavy bookcase looms next on the wall and has a significant prominence within the room. A couple books take up space on the shelving, but more important and numerous are locked cases, boxes, and dark folded squares of fabric with lumps to denote their contents. Uppermost shelves hold vials and jars of unlabeled liquids and powders. Cases that don't fit on the shelves lay upon the ground in the same general vicinity. Perhaps strangest of all about it are the holes that are cut, staggered, in each shelf. Just wide enough for a cat, maybe, to slip through. A wooden board is on the floor at the far wall with a laptop setup in the middle and a cushion meant apparently to serve as a chair. A black ceramic planter sits just to the side of that board, filled with cement to keep the weight of a heavy branch constructed into a thick perch in place. The perch is situated a bit more than a foot away from a window. A window that has been tampered with, it appears. There's a strange wide latch on either side of the 'sil, a black-cushioned metal bench beneath the inner window, a stump of an old tree apparent just outside. While there is a futon laid flat as a bed in this room, its singular occupant fails to occupy it. Well, a plethora of his hair remains upon its black sheets, but the shapeshifter himself is sprawled out upon the floor right in the middle of it. Dog toys lay scattered about the space, a kong and a rope closest to him, though there's clearly little rhyme or reason to the mess. What isn't a mess are all the items he takes with him on his jobs. The items on the bookshelves are neat and orderly, the cases along the floor locked and shoved out of the way, stacked as if not intended to be used for some time. The 'attack dog' is exhausted, and has been, ever since his last return. Seen around the island as one form or another, he's still spent most of his time in his own personal space. And, despite his fortunes that surely increased multi-fold during the zombie outbreak, the items in here have failed to improve from the basic, almost crude objects that made it up before. Except maybe the laptop that's plenty new, currently shut down and closed. And the cell phone next to it that's significantly improved from his ancient flip-top, though it too sits next to that. The border collie lays on his side, fast asleep in all the peacefulness that only a dog can have. Long white feathered legs are sprawled. And if one were to watch him for more than those bare seconds of passing, it could become obvious that his paws twitch. First the front two, little twitches. Then the back paws too, his muzzle twitching on occasion as he chases whatever the dog mind has let him fall into the bliss of chasing. A tiny whimper escapes in the effort, lost as he is to that doggish dreams. If the dog (or one of his various other forms) is going to climb in through windows and creep on the houses inhabitants, then it stands to reason he should expect the same in return. That's probably Anette's reasoning for crawling in through his window, rather than take the front door like a normal person. Thanks to the modifications made for easier access in animal-form, Anette slips inside rather silently, even if there's some difficulty. Not many human sized creatures make use of the window. Upon noticing Killian sleeping on the futon, she smiles softly. She reaches for the windowsill, making to leave and let sleeping dogs lie until she notices his paw twitch. She freezes, her eyes widening slightly as his paws twitch again. A hand quickly covers her mouth, hiding the grin and muffling the laugh lurking beneath. Then he whines. Anette steps away from the window, carefully reaching into her pocket to pull out her cell phone. Slowly, she holds it out, point it at Killian and begins recording. She steps closer, careful to keep silent. She gets a good thirty seconds of footage before, in an attempt to get a better angle, steps on a stuffed Yoda dog toy. A squeaky stuffed Yoda toy. The border collie is out like a light, not even roused by the apparent trespasser. His long limbs continue those abbreviated movements, shortened by the attempted motionlessness that sleep brings. Yet, as whatever he chases continues to evade him in his slumber, the little motions become more noticable. All of him moves in little jerks and sleep-restricted paddling that gives evidence to the vast fields he must be running through. The footage goes easily uninterrupted- surely to his soon-to-be-disapproval- until the Squeeeeeeak drawls out long and loud, obnoxiously so in the once silent space. All the puppy-twitching abruptly stops and brown eyes open in sudden alertness, the dog rolling up onto his belly in the same second to find the source of the disturbance. Ears are pin-point straight until those brown eyes fall upon Anette and her cell phone, at which time they flatten on his head. It's difficult to tell if the canid display is embarrassment or annoyance, but he rises to all fours all the same, trotting over the short distance to Anette to curl around behind her legs. By the time he's behind her, the feeling of him at his human height is obvious in the warmth so-close to her back. And if she hasn't tried to get away from him yet, he'll be reaching for her cell too, "What exactly are you doing, love." Knowing full well this isn't going to end well, Anette quickly stops recording once the dog wakes. By the time he's walked behind her, shifted into human form, and tries reaching forward, she's already slipped the phone into the safest place she can: her bra. Granted, it doesn't exactly have a lot of space to blend in and the outline is pretty obvious through her t-shirt. But, you know, it's in there. "Well, the cocaine withdrawal has been rough so I've been distracting myself with viral cat and dog videos. The one of the kitten's belly being tickled started getting old so I thought I'd track down some original material. I'm sure Facebook will love this." A smirk is now permanently fixed on her face, making it /incredibly/ difficult to tell how serious she is right now. For all that Killian can have quite the inappropriate mouth, he is by nature to some degree a gentleman when it comes to dealing with women... especially one he clearly cares for. Thus, unfortunately she places her cell off limits- for now. "And you think I'm going to be your next subject." Killian's voice is like a purr against her, rough in his deep tones, his head over her shoulder a bare few inches from her own. There's a disapproving threat seeded in there somewhere, though it remains playful, curious in spite of that. "I could do far better things to distract you than give you videos to post. Becoming viral might tamper with my reputation, don't you think? I can't exactly be feared if I'm loved by thousands who think I'm just cute and fluffy." Not that it /really/ matters, considering how rarely he's that friendly form while going after someone, and the lack of seriousness can be found in that teasing quality of his tone. "If you want to keep that phone, I'd suggest deleting that video. I would more than enjoy getting it right now." Or later, seeing as he has little problem finding his way into her room too. "First rule of the internet: what ends up on the internet, stays there forever," Anette teases, patting the square outline on her chest protectively. "But you're such a cute puppy," Anette says, her voice fading into obnoxious babytalk as she playfully pats Killian's cheek as he tries to charm her with other ideas. "Besides, I stopped before you shifted. You could be some stray as far as anyone knows." His mention of his reputation is met with a chuckle, turning and making her way to fur coated futon and sitting down. "It's your own fault for defaulting to something cute cuddly. You should rethink snakes. They can fit almost anywhere, near silent, and you can bite anyone you don't like. Plus..." she adds, wiping her hand on the couch and picking up a clump of hair. "They don't shed. Well...not like this." A dark brow lifts as she pats his cheek and babytalks, tolerating it just-barely all because it is /her/ afterall. "And you don't plan on sharing the truth of it with the whole island and ruining me?" Over-dramatized, for sure, and still stated in that gravelly tone meant to seduce her bit by bit. "I am just a stray, aren't I? Following you around on your heels, begging for your attention." He tilts his head enough amidst her patting to kiss her hand if he can catch her quick enough before she stops. "A snake is what you wish?" He chuckles, almost close enough that she can feel the motion of his chest against her back. The feeling is alien as he begins to shift, again, that closeness suddenly becoming contact- in the soft coolness of scales as a weight falls upon her shoulders. The serpent's body curls around the back of her neck like a boa-scarf, though this snake is far less safe than any constrictor. The mamba is a nasty creature, but right now just the tongue of it flickers in and out as it eerily slips over her shoulders and then falls down in front of her. Just as it hits the ground before her, he regrows back to human shape, this time facing her directly with a smirk upon his lips. "I've known the dog since I was a boy. It was not quite by choice." "What would be the point of revealing my plan? The fun is keeping you on your toes." Anette smiles and winks up to Killian. "Well, you said it, not me." The kiss of her hand is met with a small blush and quick withdraw of her hand but she otherwise doesn't acknowledge it. She does give Killian a curious look when he seems to go long with the snake idea, jumping in her seat when she feels scales against her neck. Her heart quickens, breathing stops as she holds her breath. Like most people, Anette doesn't do so well with snakes, her wings painfully flat against her back. But she resists the urge to freak out, instead freezing in place as the snake crawls about her. She does know it's Killian after all and more or less trusts him not to murder her. Still, it's not until he's dropped to the floor and morphed into a human that she resumes breathing, leaning forward and rubbing at her eyes. "Asshole," she murmurs, though when she looks up, she's grinning. All is forgiven. His next sentence, softens her features a bit and she leans back on her arms. "Oh? The family pet?" Her joking tone dies a bit, suggesting she is serious and genuinely curious with her question. The arrogant smirk that he keeps is notation enough that he both accepts and revels in the title she applies to him for the point he made. "You already keep me on my toes without any extra planning, love." Killian reaches his hand up to touch her chin with a bent knuckle to tilt her head up to him as if he's of the mind to kiss her. "Are you sure you'd rather me be covered in scales? I feel you wouldn't be nearly as tempted to be around me no matter how strikingly handsome this form is if the faintest of sudden movements might provoke a bite. Although, seeing your change in temperature when I get closer to you is tempting..." His rough tones drawl off, his taunting grin hinting obviously at the suggestion he means. "I could be anything you want me to be, if you've grown bored of the dog." There's a question in there, curious, studying her eyes as he says it. "Ah, yeah." Her question of his past gets an answer and a faint shrug of his shoulders. But it's an easy answer, as if he's behind no barricade at the moment to share whatever she asks, "The dog I grew up with for the most part. It was the only animal I'd seen recently when I shifted for the first time. Stuck with him ever since. Could have been worse, I guess." Anette returns Killian's smirk, though hers grows softer under his gaze. His knuckle under her chin is met with no resistance, her eyes staring into his, her grin fading into something much more subtle. However, she eventually shifts her chin away from his hand, not wanting to push her limits or risk anything more intimate. "The dog is fine," she quickly says, perhaps a bit roughly though she quickly adds a faint smile. "He's...familiar. Crazy as it sounds, he adds a sense of normalcy to the island." She listens to him explain his reason for the form, nodding along. "Shame you didn't grow up with a Chihuahua. Or a Shih Tzu," she says, returning to her earlier joking manner. If there's disappointment in her shifting her head away from his touch, he doesn't show it. "Normalcy." Killian repeats the word, curious of its usage and amused by it. "A little lap dog? I'm not sure even I could pull that off. But the collie is more than willing to lay in your lap, should I happen to catch you watching TV sometime. He's pretty fond of you, you know." He lets his hand fall away, giving her those millimeters of space that protects her from him pushing further. For now. It's clear what he wants, though he doesn't make it more uncomfortable than his typical demeanor. "I wouldn't mind laying in your lap either, without his help to get me there." And then he steps away, turning to pick up the Yoda toy that had caused him to wake, examining it as if he hadn't seen it before or chewed upon it recently. "It's been awhile since you've visited me. To what do I owe the pleasure?" "Put some bows in your fur, put you in costumes, maybe slip you in a purse and carry you around like Paris Hilton's dog..." Anette continues, adding on to the lapdog idea. She can't help but smile, a bit more genuinely than she intended, at his confession about the dog. "It's the scratches, isn't it?" she says, holding up a hand and waggling her talons. "Can't blame him. I think the human enjoys them, too." With the physical contact out of the way, she has no problem with his proximity, no matter how few millimeters there are between them. Still, when he steps away, she seems to relax a bit, leaning forward and resting her arms on her legs. A brow grows up as he asks her for her reasons and she merely shrugs. "I was bored. Figured I'd see how you were. Maybe check up on you, see how you're doing with...everything." Just what everything she means goes unsaid and is left for interpretation. "Those little furballs are even more troublesome than bigger dogs. I'd be hard pressed to be kept in a purse, love. Even if it was your purse. You would have to bribe me quite thoroughly for that." He doesn't even touch on the bows and costumes- how ludicrous a concept to stuff a hitman into a sparkling angel suit with cotton-stuffed wings. "Though I can come up with a couple of ideas..." Killian throws the toy to the side, a short high-pitched squeak coming as it hits the wood of the floor beyond the central rug. Sea-blue eyes watch her from their corners, that sidelong glance curious, mischievous, "He does. I do as well." Unashamed, that agreement. "Just to check up on me? Can't get me out of your head, darling? I'm not surprised." Smugness laces his words, as he gestures one open-hand towards the futon in suggestion. "If you're so bored, I could fill your head with many other things. Or-" And he offers to give her an out, not wanting to push her away with his teasing, "Would you rather Netflix? You can stay as long as you'd like." "I'm pretty sure I could come up with an acceptable bribe," Anette comments, her mind drifting off with ideas how how to torture lapdog-Killian. As Killian continues to watch her, she returns to reality, catching his glance and grinning. "I'd be hard-pressed to find any part of you that didn't enjoy my company." As he presses her reason for visiting, she tries so hard to hold onto her joking, casual attitude but it falls and she sighs softly, shaking her head. "I missed seeing you. And I...needed a distraction. Cleaning up is starting to feel overrated." She shakes her head gently at the offer of Netflix. "I've had enough movies and Netflix for a while. I just...needed to see a familiar face. Your face." She glances down to the futon she sits on, offering a quiet chuckle. "/That/ might not be the best idea right now." "I'm more than happy to distract you anytime you wish. You're always welcome to come over. I might even be a little more inclined to get some of the fur up if you do." Killian sits next to her eventually, close enough that his leg is touching hers with no more than a brush of pressure, his arms rested with elbows on either of his thighs as he leans forwards a little to be able to watch her better. "I am quite irresistible that way." He replies on the note of her wanting to see his face. "I missed you too." This holds less arrogance, the smile a little softer, the look in his eyes a little less sinister. "We don't have to watch it, you know. But if you'd prefer something a little more interesting, we could always go for a fly. Can't say I'm-" He leans back with the sentiment, stretching his arms behind them both, "Entirely awake. I did have quite the abrupt wake up call. But if I can't interest you in a more pleasurable activity, I might be able to manage." "Seems like someone needs to take the dog out and brush him. It's usually easier to take care of the fur before it coats everything," Anette says, pressing her leg against Killian's with just a touch extra firmness. She then shifts her body, allowing her to fully face Killian and watch him, yellow eyes scanning him, a faint smirk growing on her face though it quickly fades as he speaks honestly with her. "I don't know why you would..." she says quietly. "Seems like your life has gotten a bit calmer lately." At the suggestion of flying, she does glance to the side, lips pressed together as she does give it some thought. That eventually earns a slightly shake of her head. "Seeing hawk or falcon you just isn't the same. Maybe there was something in that movies idea." She does smile softly at his last suggestion of a more pleasurable activity, leaning back as well, her wings just happening to brush up against his outstretched arm. "Don't tempt me. I might accidentally take you up on that offer." "Are you volunteering? He doesn't quite like the brush, there might be a bit of a chase involved." Killian lends no confidence to even attempting to rein the dog mind end. The fact that she returns the contact brings about a warmth to the often cold shifter, though perhaps it could be said he's always different around her. "Calmer only because I haven't taken any jobs recently. Z's had to lay low after what he sent me to do. So for now, unless I care to go searching out odds and ends, or go back to the zoo for a little while, I think I'm going to take advantage of my little vacation. And a good majority of that includes seeing your beautiful self just as much as I might be able to." He lets his arms fall behind them both after her wing brushes against it, given his futon is flat and not couch-lean-worthy at the moment. It's a touch he's missed, and leaves himself close enough that it may 'accidentally' occur again. That arm rests just behind her, leaving it such that if she leaned back, she'd be against him again. "No? Would you rather I find an owl, see the world just a little more like you do?" He teases, knowing well what she means. His eyes narrow gently in the playful banter, "I'm not so sure that would be an accident, love. All you'd ever have to say is that you want me." "No jobs? Shame, I was going to ask about joining you on one. The closest rush I've felt to a cocaine binge was when we...took care of the dealers." Anette gives a light shrug, turning her head to stare out across the room, though she does smile softly at his compliment. She knows how he's placed his arm, what his intention, his hope is. And she doesn't want to fall for it. Quickly, she rises to feet, arms wrapped across her chest. "Of course I want you. I just...can't," she says, offering a strained smile though her eyes dart around the room, eyes downcast once again though they dart periodically through the window. "I don't know if I can give you what you want and I don't want to hurt you," is the best she can come up with for an explanation. "I should head back." When she rises, he stays where he is instead of chasing. Though he does retract his arm from where it was, leaning once more over his knees. "When I pick up another, I'll let you know." Killian offers, somewhat more neutral, cautious as she begins to run away once more. "You can't, because of him." It's both a question and not a question, stated flatly. While he'd never admit the jealousy, it's rare that he can hide the change about his features that darkens. A change that adds to the danger of his character, that dulls the amusement of their rendevous. He sighs heavily, glancing away from her for the first time in quite awhile. "Don't leave." He says eventually, whatever thoughts that coiled through his mind being left unsaid in the sudden heaviness that is set between them. "There's a TV in the main room, among the rest of Dusk's stuff. I can be myself, or the dog if you'd rather." There's something vaguely pleading about it, even if his tone remains the same. "No. Yes. I'm not seeing him, if that's what you're after," Anette says, quickly turning away, resting her forearm on a bookcase and leaning up against it, her back to Killian. "I've told you. I don't know how. And unless you want me to drown those feelings in cocaine, I need...distance." She takes a deep breath, pondering his offer but she gives a quick shake of her head. "I can't," she says quietly, almost painfully in response to his near pleading. She stands up straight and, without looking back towards him, makes her way not to the window but the door, taking a more human exit.