Send me a ✘ for my muse’s reaction to finding yours asleep on their couch.
Her first reaction–the only reaction she held for seconds as she stared at him– was to entertain the thought of dousing him with water. Water to wake up? Maybe. Water to wash away part of that hmm-mm-mm good cigarette smoke? Edging slightly towards the yes scale.
Water to make him scowl and meow-screech scream like cats do? You betcha. After all, he was of the…well, no, wait, he’d be a canine persuasion, not feline. Dogs don’t mind water as much as cats do, but they don’t like it either, especially with all that hair and then their droopy eyes, lithe bodies trembling due to how cold it is–
Wait. Where was she? Oh, yeah, waking him up – or, perhaps not doing such a thing.
Mischievous thoughts went away for a moment as her tender side took over. Suffice it to say, Lia and Bigby weren’t particularly close–not as close as she and Snow, and most certainly not as close as he and that still-existing-god-why-murderess Powergirl–(seriously, how and why?!)– but if there was one thing the living hologram was known for, it was ‘befriending’ the grumpiest people in all of the land. No trouble. No mess.
How do you think Manhunter and the Flash became slightly chummier over the years?
With that in mind, the only thing Lia really did was sigh, shrug off any lingering negative emotions away and took to sol-holing him a thin blanket at least. A nice pillow too, all items made out of silk. She wasn’t cruel nor uncompassionate, and he hadn’t given her reason to make her be. He did mention work in Fabletown was running him haggard, curiously enough; she’d almost suggested there was a deep mystery then, if he hadn’t babbled into sleep about some pigs, a red rose and a revolution.
Sounded like a song from some eighties new-wave band that tried to be too deep, honestly.
But impish attitude couldn’t stay too far away, as imaginary light-horns and a forked tail appeared on her. “Oooooh-kay, Mona,” she whispered, letting the little adult cockapoo down into her sleeping basket. Said bed was casually located on a makeshift holo table, which in turn was placed casually near the head of the couch. Mona was already panting, wanting to take a paw out and touch the poor Wolf’s shiny hair. (Well, it looked like that to her.)
“Just stay here and pro–p–,” she giggle-snorted, trying to keep her voice quiet. “Protect Bigby with your doggie ways. He needs sleep, y’know!”
Operation: Lone Wolf and Pup (Sweet Dreams Are Made of This) underway.
(Can you say, like, longest title ever?)