Roommates
Bullwinkle the Moose-Dog was not the worst roomate that Rhys had ever had by any means, even if every article of black clothing he owned, which was about seventy-five percent of his wardrobe, was already covered in blond fur after only three days.
The big dog also gave him something to think about, something to distract him from worrying about both Tuck and Sam, and the company was nice. Rhys had always liked dogs, especially since his days working at the junkyard when he'd adopted a stray German Shepard mutt that he'd promptly named Magda. Bullwinkle curled up on the carpet as Rhys worked, and things were looking a little better, especially with work coming in. A contract for a batch of invisibility charms had turned out to be a nice payday, even if replacing his stock of owl feathers was going to be a headache- they had to be from a healthy, living owl, otherwise the charms tended to backfire. A side effect of his empathic nature, he always suspected, but Rhys prided himself on being eco-friendly with his charms anyway.
But it made for a long couple of days of fidgety work, even if it meant the rent was paid for another month, and by the time Rhys finishes for the night, he's definitely ready to crash.
And apparently, so is Bullwinkle. The big dog stares longingly up at Rhys and the queen-sized bed as the mage sweeps his hair back into a loose ponytail, and Rhys looks back down at him, into those liquid brown eyes. "No. You snore."
The fluffy tail thumps against the carpet.
"You can have the couch. And if you're good, I'll play some Creedence for you tomorrow." Thump, thump. Ears cock forward, and Bullwinkle shifts his weight from side to side with a whine, looking longingly at the expanse of queen-sized bed that Rhys can't possibly use all by himself and clearly needs a large golden retriever mutt to help him occupy.
Rhys looks over again, then sighs as he realizes he's talking to the dog again. Oh well. At least the dog's not talking back, and in Rhys' experience, he's had stranger conversations. Bullwinkle's a good listener anyway. He shakes his head, then pats the covers next to him. "Alright, come on up. Just don't tell your dad, okay? Don't want him to think I'm spoiling you or anything."
Bullwinkle wastes no time in jumping up on the bed, making the mattress creak, and turns around, flopping down. "Geez, what is Bill feeding you, smaller moose?" Bullwinkle just peers up at him, floppy ears perked before dropping his head with a contented sigh. Rhys reaches over to scratch the big dog's head, then flicks the bedside light off and curls up, pulling the blankets up and settling into the pillows. Generous though he might be with sharing, those remain his domain.
And, after a long minute of lying there in the dark, he peers down at Bullwinkle one more time. "...but I'm *not* making you pancakes in the morning."
The big dog also gave him something to think about, something to distract him from worrying about both Tuck and Sam, and the company was nice. Rhys had always liked dogs, especially since his days working at the junkyard when he'd adopted a stray German Shepard mutt that he'd promptly named Magda. Bullwinkle curled up on the carpet as Rhys worked, and things were looking a little better, especially with work coming in. A contract for a batch of invisibility charms had turned out to be a nice payday, even if replacing his stock of owl feathers was going to be a headache- they had to be from a healthy, living owl, otherwise the charms tended to backfire. A side effect of his empathic nature, he always suspected, but Rhys prided himself on being eco-friendly with his charms anyway.
But it made for a long couple of days of fidgety work, even if it meant the rent was paid for another month, and by the time Rhys finishes for the night, he's definitely ready to crash.
And apparently, so is Bullwinkle. The big dog stares longingly up at Rhys and the queen-sized bed as the mage sweeps his hair back into a loose ponytail, and Rhys looks back down at him, into those liquid brown eyes. "No. You snore."
The fluffy tail thumps against the carpet.
"You can have the couch. And if you're good, I'll play some Creedence for you tomorrow." Thump, thump. Ears cock forward, and Bullwinkle shifts his weight from side to side with a whine, looking longingly at the expanse of queen-sized bed that Rhys can't possibly use all by himself and clearly needs a large golden retriever mutt to help him occupy.
Rhys looks over again, then sighs as he realizes he's talking to the dog again. Oh well. At least the dog's not talking back, and in Rhys' experience, he's had stranger conversations. Bullwinkle's a good listener anyway. He shakes his head, then pats the covers next to him. "Alright, come on up. Just don't tell your dad, okay? Don't want him to think I'm spoiling you or anything."
Bullwinkle wastes no time in jumping up on the bed, making the mattress creak, and turns around, flopping down. "Geez, what is Bill feeding you, smaller moose?" Bullwinkle just peers up at him, floppy ears perked before dropping his head with a contented sigh. Rhys reaches over to scratch the big dog's head, then flicks the bedside light off and curls up, pulling the blankets up and settling into the pillows. Generous though he might be with sharing, those remain his domain.
And, after a long minute of lying there in the dark, he peers down at Bullwinkle one more time. "...but I'm *not* making you pancakes in the morning."