I have found this dog. Does it belong to anyone?
[Here, Castiel holds up a
small brown puppy by the scruff of its neck in front of the camera. Said puppy simply dangles in his hold and does not seem very comfortable being handled as such. But doesn't really do anything to get away either
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I did. It's now on the floor.
[He pans the NV camera to show how that puppy is pretty much plopped on his feet. It looks like someone dropped a brown fur cushion and it is now obscuring Castiel's sneakers from view.]
It wouldn't go away.
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S'ppose it's yours now, isn't it.
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[A beat.]
Or should I just give him a bone? I doubt rubber tastes like bone. He will not like my shoes.
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[Castiel will get that egg, and he will keep the dog. But for now, he gives Sirius a long and probing stare. He seems very familiar with dogs; oh, but why wouldn't he? Sirius is a man of many extraordinary skills. And studies many things.]
Would you like to pet my dog, then?
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Sure, why not? Dogs're great, better than most people. I'll give him a good scratch behind the ears when I see him and we'll be the best of mates before very long at all. Er--does he have a name yet? Actually, is it a he, I don't think you've yet revealed. And I'll need to know so as to be able to purchase the proper cigars.
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[Castiel says this after a moment of silence and then proceeds to answer everything Sirius just warbled out.]
I do not have any interest for you to pet parts of my vessel. Erase that thought from your mind. The dog is a he. His name is Dean. And I believe dogs are not capable of smoking tobacco. You need not waste your earnings on a useless things.
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[But he doesn't say it too loud, and it's not that he means it very much. So, a few seconds later and it's back to cheer.]
Dean, eh? Good solid name. Very scholarly. And--no, the cigars aren't for the dog, actually. It was a joke. When people have babies, they hand out cigars.
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