I sat, muttering, “You started it.”
Lame, also immature, but I did not care.
I heard his heavy sigh.
But what I saw was movement on the floor by the side of the desk.
I looked that way, jumped in my chair and let out a muted scream.
“What on…?” Battle murmured, having seated himself, he rose to his feet.
But I was staring.
Then I was smiling.
After that, I was crying out, “Oh my God! It’s Hagrid’s dog!”
The animal crept up to me, so I dropped a hand low and held it out to him.
He got close enough to sniff it.
It didn’t take long for him to cast judgement, since after a single sniff, he dipped his snout low and used it to toss my hand up to his head.
Approved.
I laughed, carefully leaned the dog’s way and gave his head a rubdown, cooing, “Aren’t you a gentle brute.”
“That’s Bartholomew,” Battle explained.
“He looks like his face is melting. He’s adorable.”
“He’s a Neapolitan Mastiff, and be cautioned, he’s hell on satin considering his propensity to drool.”
I gave Bartholomew a good scratch behind his ear, leaning closer and fussing, “We don’t care about drool, do we? We are who we are, and people have to accept us just so. Am I right?”
Bartholomew panted his agreement.
I kept petting as I turned my head to look at Battle, who had again taken his seat. “Where did you hide him earlier?”
“I wasn’t hiding him,” he retorted.
I looked back at Bartholomew. “Did I witness your gloriousness and that’s what made me pass out?”
“No. He was in the gamekeeper’s cottage with Christian.”
I returned my attention to Battle.
He kept talking. “We went out to speak with him, and as that journey of about three hundred meters was rather taxing for my pup, he fell into a snooze whilst Christian and I conversed, so I left him there.”
Again, I went back to Bartholomew. “I totally understand. It’s hard being gorgeous, large and packed with muscle. It’s good to take frequent rests from lugging your amazingness around.”
Bartholomew licked his floppy chops, sending a string of drool curving around his short snout.
I laughed again.
Bartholomew pressed his head harder into my scratches.
“If we could do this so I can finally have a drink,” Battle prompted.
