“Right. Spasm.”
He threw the stick again. Apollo disappeared into the hedge after it, tail wagging so hard his whole back end wiggled.
“He is ridiculous,” Viktor said.
“He's happy.”
“Happiness is inefficient.”
“Is it?” I moved closer, just slightly. Testing. “Because you look pretty happy right now.”
Viktor's jaw tightened. “I am maintaining operational readiness while engaging in approved recreational activity.”
“That's a long way of saying you're playing with my dog.”
“I am not playing.”
Apollo returned. Dropped the stick on Viktor's boot. Sat so close he was practically leaning against Viktor's leg. Viktor threw the stick without comment.
We walked further into the gardens, following Apollo as he bounded between flower beds and hedges. The evening air was cool. Perfect. The kind of weather that made you forget, for a moment, that the world was full of people who wanted you dead.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Viktor glanced at me. “For what.”
“For this. For throwing the stick. For coming out here even though you probably have a dozen more important things to do.”
“There is nothing more important than this.”
The way he said it. Simple. Final. Like it was obvious.
Something warm bloomed in my chest. Dangerous and sweet and terrifying.
Apollo found a puddle. Immediately stepped in it. Splashed. Looked delighted with himself.
“No,” Viktor said.
Apollo splashed again.
“Sebastian. Your dog is being stupid.”
“He's being a dog.”
“He is going to be wet. And muddy. And then want to come inside.”
“Probably.”
Apollo chose that moment to shake, spraying muddy water everywhere. Including on Viktor's perfectly pressed pants.
The silence was profound.
I bit my lip. Tried not to laugh. Failed completely.
Viktor looked down at the mud. At Apollo, who sat panting happily, completely unaware he'd just committed a cardinal sin. At me, doubled over laughing.
“This is unacceptable,” Viktor said.
“Your face right now is priceless.”
