A part of Fane loved Grace, it always would. This was a fact he’d come to terms with a long time ago now and Grace wasn’t the only person. He loved too much too soon, and for some it was intense – that passion that he could hold for someone. How much of his time and attention would consequently become devoted unto only them so that they knew just how much he cared. Grace had been the recipient of that, once upon a time, and even with everything they had been through. Put each other through he still would drop everything to help her if she called. Because that love was never going away, they had both moved on, of course, but it didn’t change that he would always be there for her no questions asked.
So it shouldn’t have really been all that surprising that he was protective over her. That he held her feelings in high and more important regard than someone else’s. “I would have,” he announced quite plainly and drunkenly while saluting with his wine glass in a mock serious fashion “but then again I’m far pettier and more of a child than you clearly.”
“Don’t know,” he said really having no clue over the topic, he’d taken strays in before but typically when very sober and clear minded “let’s find out!” Unlike Grace he didn’t bother with water, seeing no real point in it. “Sure.” He couldn’t be bothered with walking all the way there and it made more sense. He pulled out his phone and peered at the screen for a moment before tapping through to the app to call a car. “Should be like five minutes.”
“Nah, poodle. You… even have the dangly hair for it.” But such debates were left by the time they were outside and journeying towards the shelter. Fane grew quiet looking out the window until they arrived and Grace took the lead with Fane trailing behind her. His hypersensitivity causing his head to tilt towards the sounds from the pens beyond already attuned and drawn towards them. And this was why you didn’t bring him, when sober and especially when pleasantly buzzed to an animal shelter. Because you could be almost certain that he would end up going home with one of everything.
As Grace busied herself with the eloquent introductions Fane’s eyes were still drawn to the door they would eventually be led through. Though as he was addressed he tilted his head up and grinned demurely, though there was affection in his features at mention of his dogs “four now, three rescues, one purebred. And no, you can’t which is why she’s here… I said she should get a poodle.”
Carol laughed at Fane’s statement, “ah yes well, we don’t have any poodles but we have plenty of other dogs. Is there any particular size or breed you’re looking for Grace?”
Fane was an absolute pain in Grace's arse. He was also a bloody good friend, even if he did wind her up any chance he got. "I do not want a poodle," she hissed at him, stern but without any real venom in it, giving him a light smack on the arm. "Ignore him," she said to Carol, giving a chuckle. "He just likes to think he's funny." Luckily, Carol took it in good humour.
Grace hadn't particularly thought about what sort of breed she wanted. She just knew what she didn't want. "I don't want anything small and yappy, or anything frilly. I'm not a lapdog sort of girl, or god forbid one of those silly California women who carry their dogs in a designer handbag."
"Well, I definitely wouldn't recommend that regardless of whether you like small dogs or not," Carol chuckled. "So you're looking for a medium to large sized dog?"
"Exactly," Grace answered, sticking close to Fane and linking her arm through his to keep him close as Carol started showing them around. "Your wife's going to kill me if you take any of them home. Behave." She gave him a wry grin, knowing him well enough to predict what he was thinking with near certainty.
Carol showed them a few different kinds of dogs, asking Grace a few questions along the way, making sure she had a big enough garden, suitable home and enough time and energy to make sure whoever she adopted got enough exercise.
"Oh, I love this one," she cooed over a big, fluffy Samoyed called Blizzard. "Look," she said, nudging Fane. "He's beautiful." And he was, but she wasn't entirely sold on having a dog with such a thick coat, no matter how majestic he was. Still, she gave him some petting and attention for a while before moving on, doing the same for a Rhodesian Ridgeback, a few mutts and a greyhound.
"Oh my," she gasped, straightening up as a new creature caught her eye. "Who's this?" A tall but lean creature walked to the bars of the kennel, a hesitant but protective stance.
"That's Hecate," Carol said, clicking her tongue at the dog and reassuring her. As Grace stepped closer, it became obvious why she was so cautious. There were a half dozen or so puppies surrounding her.
"Are they wolves?" Grace asked, confused and impressed. "They don't look like Huskies or Inuit dogs..." By this point, Hecate seemed to understand that the strangers approaching her were well-intentioned, and simply fussed over Carol as the pups played and wrestled each other nearby.
"Sort of. They're Czech Wolfdogs. They were bred from mixing German Shepherds and Carpathian wolves back in the fifties. They're great dogs if you give them the right attention. We named all the pups after Greek figures to match their mom. A few are adopted and going to their new homes as soon as they're old enough, but we've still got Atlas, Hera and Paris left."
Grace was already looking at Fane with an expression he'd probably given Faye a million times. One that said 'I want all of them.'
