[Closed Post: Caught]

[timebethine]

Laertes is in love. He's in love, and he's carrying his whole heart tucked into his coat, held close against his chest. The pup wriggles and squirms and makes little noises that to Laertes's ears are more curious and interested than distressed. "Soon, pet," says Laertes softly as he undoes the lock on the door to his and Sagramore's rooms. Then, louder: "Sagramore! I've brought a friend for thee!"

And he pulls the tiny puppy out of his coat. It blinks ice-blue eyes at Sagramore, then gives an amiable bark.

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[sagramore]

Laertes' delight breaks a grin out of him in spite of himself. "No, he's hearing the name I gave him. His name, my love, don't give the powers," with a glance upwards, "the wrong idea."

[timebethine]

"My heart, thou art the cleverest man alive." Distracted by Sagramore's cleverness, Laertes has let his grip on the scarf lapse; Szarka tugs so hard that she bowls herself over, flopping with her tiny legs milling the air.

[sagramore]

He snorts at both of them -- Szarka rights herself after a moment and looks up at them with no reproach for her felling. One of her ears stands upright and the other folds, and Sagramore lets out a great sigh. "Christ, I'm the happiest man alive."

[timebethine]

"Good," says Laertes, and he reaches for Sagramore's hand. "I would always have thee thus."

[sagramore]

"Come on, let's go get her something to eat and then we can tire her out a little." Now that he's past his initial stunned reaction, he's fairly humming with energy. "We've no starting place with her, so we'll have to make our own. Thou didst carry her here, didst thou not, so she's probably ready to stretch her legs, and I don't know when she was last out. We should find her some bones for gnawing on so she has something to occupy her, and--"

[timebethine]

"Wait, wait, I can only hold so many things in my head!" Laertes laughs. "Let's feed her first. Bread, broth, and water, didst thou say?"

[sagramore]

"Aye, whatever clear broth we have, and bran bread sopped in it, and a little meat of whatever kind -- we should tear it into small pieces for her -- and all tepid, hot will hurt her stomach."

[timebethine]

"Then so she shall have--cooked meat? I think I have a little leftover chicken; she's welcome to it."

[sagramore]

"Plain, with no seasoning?"

[timebethine]

"--I'll make more." He lifts Szarka down from the bed and walks toward the door, looking back toward her, watching to see whether she'll follow.

[sagramore]

Let us suppose that, although very small, she's old enough to be weaned, and thus old enough to bound unsteadily after him, her tail wagging with a drunken sway.

"Szari," Sagramore says delightedly, dropping to a crouch, and she turns -- she doesn't know her name, but the tone of voice, encouraging and pitched with affection, gets her attention. "Szarkácske. Come here, little one. What a good girl." She pelts towards him instead.

[timebethine]

"I see she has a favorite father," Laertes laughs. "I'll have to bribe her with chicken to win her heart."

[sagramore]

"She'll adore thee too, if thou speakst thus to her and encouragest her to run to thee." He straightens up and heads for Laertes and the door, and Szarka follows.

[timebethine]

"Szarka," Laertes calls, and kneels down to pat his knees. "Here, my sweet--" Szarka, already headed in his direction anyway, needs little encouragement to bound toward Laertes's feet and put her paws up on his knee, tail wagging, mouth hanging open. "Yes, Szarike, thou art my favorite little girl."

[sagramore]

"See, simple. Thou has supplanted all others in her eye, and she in thine."

[timebethine]

Laertes scritches Szarka all around her ears, then climbs reluctantly to his feet to step out with Sagramore. "Is she too small for stairs, dost thou think?"

[sagramore]

"I think she can manage if we keep an eye on her. Thou wouldst enfold her in thy jacket and carry her everywhere like a princess on a litter."

[timebethine]

"I would! This is why I should never have a child."

[sagramore]

"Listen to him. Thou hast a child, she's at thy heels." This is true. "It's all right, she'll have one stern and one indulgent parent and between the two of us she may grow up to be a reasonable person."

[timebethine]

"Canst not be stern with her," Laertes laughs as they make for the stairs. He walks backwards a little so that he can keep an eye on her, and catch her if she stumbles. "Canst be stern with me, but never with her."

[sagramore]

"I won't be stern," he agrees, with a sigh. "But thou must have a will of iron -- if she leaps up on thee, thou canst not laugh and allow it, thou wilt have to push her down and remind her it's ill-mannered, or if she looks longingly at thee for her reward before she's earned it, thou canst not fall to her sweet eyes."

[timebethine]

"Hast set a hard task for me, my star," says Laertes, mock-mournful. "How can I keep from falling to her sweet eyes?" Szarka hesitates at the top of the stairs, and Laertes crouches down a few steps beneath her to call, "Szarka, here!" and to clap and whistle for her.

[sagramore]

There's a moment when she dithers at the top of the stairs hopping back and forth as if she can somehow manifest a flat path through sheer hope, before she takes a stumbling step down to Laertes, and then another. As soon as she reaches them Sagramore is scratching her ears and telling her how courageous she is.

[timebethine]

And oh, Laertes loves this man--loves how his affection shines from him, how sincerely happy he is at his courageous daughter. His chest aches with love, as though something long rusted shut has swung slowly and painfully open again.

[sagramore]

Sagramore is a little too happily preoccupied to notice -- he's murmuring to Szarka, "Art thou a hound? Art thou a terrier? A herding dog? Wilt thou hunt foxes or kill rats or sort out sheep, little bird?" as she barks, though her barks are soft, high-pitched, excited things.