He flinches — he didn't expect to see Gallagher here. Why isn't he waiting in the usual place? “An ambush? You fluffy trickster.” His wings open, appearing from the hair. Like a little stretch.

“Lovely. You really are a good boy. Now give me your paw!”

“Let's see, actually. Sit!”

“Aren't you a good boy~” Scritch, scritch.

Heh. What a lovely sight. He lightly scratches his chin too.

Placing a gloved hand over his head. Pat, pat.

@woofgallagher.bsky.social Come here, puppy.

( Is that truly the reason? Let's hope not, for Robin's sake. )

He's repotting it first thing.

( Off he walks, cactus in one hand, a cup of tea still floating behind him. What a view. )

( He picks it up. Seems there's a lot he needs to learn again, a fleeting memory of a once great figure. He isn't sure where he would even go now. ) Goodbye, Gallagher.

Where did I go wrong...

( Heavy silence of a disappointed parent. )

I think we're done here. Thank you for the... gift. ( He tries to pick up the pot, but his hand goes right through it at first. Tsk. )

( Slightly lifting his brows, his lips get even thinner than before. ) Perhaps you should stay silent then.

You think it's funny? ..Go away, dog.

And what's the idea behind you making dinner for the hound, my boy? Tell me I'm missing something here. ( Fixing his glasses. )

What a bold implication. So it was me, Dreammaster, who made people the way they are, me, who created this psychology you speak of? I made them such and then allowed my boy to deal with this — is that the story your friends in fiction want to write in the annals?

You cannot always hold their hand. Every bird needs to fly away from its parents' nest. I held utmost trust in his ability to figure it out.

Well, that was for my boy to deal with, not for me.

Instead, this heaven was to be bestowed upon everyone, even the sinners. Equality in happiness. I'd say this was even better. ( His lips form a very thin line. )

It's frustrating that none can comprehend what our grand goal was. Such thoughts seemingly can't fit into their small skulls.

Is this not how humanity envisions heavens?

Yes, it does. Yet you still worked to prevent Sunday from fixing it. What a hypocritical dog you are.

Naturally, the inventor and the society in general.

Well, /I/ don't like the tie this way, so of course. Things should be used the proper way, always.

Compliment accepted. Wish I could see you wearing something proper for once. Surely, you no longer need your cover. Why not wear something you like instead?

You no longer need it. And dark blue pants can be quite fancy, if you ask me.

Is this some kind of statement, Gallagher? It looks improper. Don't wear one if you don't like the feeling, then.

Your tie is also red. ( ..He can't help himself, reaching out to fix it. )

Need I spell it out? ( Looking back at his face, slightly smiling. )

( Directly staring at his pants. )

Really? I was expecting red.

( What an unserious topic... ) Blue-black, perhaps. Yours?

I am not against the conversation, after all, you are already here. Might as well chat. What topic would you prefer?

Would that entice you to tell me?

I see Sunday, but where's Robin?

( The only answer is a little shrug. )

I wouldn't go that far, but I'd hear you out.

I was. But you don't seem keen to share.

( He takes them, but doesn't put them on. ) Good. Now, where were we...

I am telling you I want my glasses back, hound.

Wha.. What.

Home, left his homeland miles behind. The stranger he walks, on the seacoast way with his path before him. #hsrrp ‣ #honkaistarrailRP ‣ #mvrp

And what was your intention, child? ( His eyes are looking at him from behind the glasses, as if prying into his very soul. )

Because you are not. You are a product of Mythus and Mikhail's dog, not Penacony. I would like for you to return my property.

Stealing from an old lady doesn't make you one, mister Gallagher. ( His voice is quiet, but each word is distinct, carefully thought through. )

I mean you, not your creator.

Are you different in that regard? ( His lips form a thin line as he watches Gallagher, not trying to stop him, but clearly not thrilled about what the other is doing with his property. )

Mm. Is that how you would call it? ( He leaves his cup floating and uncurls his fingers, as if trying to figure out how to use them again. )