Casey vs Simon Chicago
Casey was in a pretty decent mood. Bartowski was keeping himself out of trouble, nobody'd been body switched or anything like that in a while, the ITF was a good time, and, short of being able to go home to the US of A, he was doing okay. The bookshelf had seen fit to give him a bunch of reels of classic war films, and he'd been making a day of it.
He had reached the end of The Sands of Iwo Jima and was about to switch to PT 109 when he realized he wasn't alone.
There was a familiar, beady-eyed dog staring at him. He kind of felt like this dog had been staring at him for years now, ever since it had been the first thing he'd met on the island, so he gave it a good, steady glare to let it know he was keeping an eye on it, too.
"What do you want?" he growled.
The dog just wagged his tail and continued to look at him expectantly.
He had reached the end of The Sands of Iwo Jima and was about to switch to PT 109 when he realized he wasn't alone.
There was a familiar, beady-eyed dog staring at him. He kind of felt like this dog had been staring at him for years now, ever since it had been the first thing he'd met on the island, so he gave it a good, steady glare to let it know he was keeping an eye on it, too.
"What do you want?" he growled.
The dog just wagged his tail and continued to look at him expectantly.