[PRP] Have you seen yourself lately? (Horace & Elliot) FIN

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A wiggling, spotted nose led wide, mismatched eyes in swaying arc back and forth across the sidewalk. It was Pascal, his tail waving a mile a minute as his paws itched to go faster, because there were so many sights and smells and he wasn't getting to them quick enough. He boofed as he looked back at the one holding the leash, then forward, then back again.

Unlike Pascal—quite unfortunate for the excitable dog, really—Elliot was in no hurry. He was, instead, enjoying the unseasonably warm day in his straight grey jean shorts and too tight purple shirt while walking at a just-so pace. It was lovely.

"Stop pulling, Pascal," he chided with a small shake of the leash. The aussie obeyed, but was very, very obviously a sad boy about it.

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[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace loved these kind of warm, sunny days. There were relatively rare in February, but that just made them better. Plus, everyone and their uncle took their dogs out and he could dog watch or, even better, pet dogs. Speaking of, one was nearby and Horace moseyed on over.

"Hey... can I pet your dog?" He'd seen a similar dog at Oliver's place, so furry and adorable and he loved animals. Maybe he really should get one.

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[saedusk]

There was a very obvious silent exchange in the moment after Horace sidled on up to Elliot and his dog. One look over, up and down, quiet, questioning judgement over his fashion choices, but since parting ways with his parents he'd learned at least a shred of kindness. He said nothing, kept his thoughts on the matter to himself, and instead chose to focus on what he focused on best: himself and anything that was 'his.'

"Sure, darling," he replied, not even having to halt Pascal. He'd already noticed Horace and stopped, his entire rear wagging at the thought of more attention. "He's very friendly." There was no question about it, and rather than just leaving it at that, Eli continued to gush. "And soft, very soft, I brush him everyday. Go on, go on."

Waving his free hand, he urged Horace on.

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[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace bent down to pet the doggo and scratch around his ears. Animals were so cute and they never really hurt anyone. Well, not for shitty reasons, usually. "Every dog deserves a good brushing. Yes, you're a good dog, aren't you?" He reached around for the dog's collar and squinted at the name. Pascal.

Horace looked up a Elliot, brows drawing together. "Are you, uh, Elliot, by chance?" Maybe not, and he'd feel dumb, but he also didn't expect Elliot to look like this.

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Yes, he was! He was a good dog! Pascal was more than happy to show Horace just how good with every ounce of friendliness he had housed from his nose to his toes. Every time the hand came close he butted his forehead into it or licked it or something, even if that something was just funny, grunty dog noises because he really liked his ears scratched. This was Very Good.

"Wow," Elliot drew out, sounding somewhere between genuinely surprised and arrogant, but arrogant was commonplace. "Are you just impossibly good at guessing or-" He paused and held out an inviting hand led by long, delicate fingers.

"Elliot Labelle. A pleasure."

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[The Semblance of Unity]

Horace grinned at Pascal, letting him lick as he pleased. "No, I'm just physic." He looked up specifically to wink at Elliot. However, at the extend hand, he held his own up.

"Sorry, covered in dog slobber, you know how it is." He reached to scratch around Pascal's ears again. "I've actually met Pascal before. So if this is Pascal, you must be Elliot."

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"Oh." Drawing his hand back, Elliot made a face. "I know, believe me." The look smoothed over as quickly as it came, though. If there was one thing he was good at it was rolling with the punches. "Well, well, I've never met a full-blown psychic before." An apt joke considering magic was very real and Elliot had no way of knowing Horace wasn't psychic aside from that wink. Thank god for social cues.

"I'm gonna go out on a really obvious limb here and say you must be one of Ollie's friends," he said next, crossing his arms loose and casual. "I'm sure he's mentioned you. What was your name?" He couldn't read minds, unfortunately. Just wasn't the magical sort.

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[The Semblance of Unity]

Maybe he should get a dog. Dog slobber seemed to be the perfect excuse, so Horace just needed a dog slobber producer, aka a dog. He pat Pascal again. Good dog.

"Yep, I know Oliver." Horace had no idea if Oliver had ever mentioned him or not. Was this really the guy Oliie had a crush on? What taste... "Sorry, My name's Horace - I've taken him home a couple of times." Sort of, close enough.

"What is he, by the way?"

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There was no way Horace would miss it when Pascal softly boofed and looked up at him with those big, bright eyes all over again, so very pleased with the attention. "Horace, is that right?" and that was when Elliot's expression went from arrogant but amicable to downright accusatory "So you're the one who almost crashed the car driving Ollie home." Horace's question would have to wait until he explained himself out of this one. It didn't really matter to Elliot that Oliver was being loud and distracting—screaming, even. All he knew was Ollie could've died.

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"Mhmm," he said, distracted by Pascal's enduring adorability. Horace glanced up at Elliot's tone and snorted.

"Oh, he told you about that? One, he's not dead - I'm a good driver. Two; he would scream at random intervals and shriek over nothing. I'm surprised we didn't crash, to be honest." That ride had been a trip, but he remembered Oliver's ears fondly.

"Are you his mom?"

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"I don't have to be his mother to care, you know," was the response, just as sharp-tongued as ever. It was a difficult point to argue when he knew the truth, though. Horace had explained just about as well as anyone could given the circumstances. That Oliver overreacted and let his anxiety spike into an actual issue was not surprising or unusual.

Not that Elliot would outright admit it. Sure he legitimately worried about Oliver sometimes, but he wouldn't talk him down in front of his friends.

"He's an Australian shepherd," he answered to the question before, abruptly changing the subject.

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[The Semblance of Unity]

"Of course not. But he's also fine and alive and not even particularly fuzzy." One of Horace's eyebrows arched up. "Do you want me to take you on a Sunday drive to prove my skills?" It wasn't that he wanted to downplay Oliver's panic - it had been a very real ting - but he also was a good driver. Except maybe when storm chasing, but that was different.

He patted the dog again. "He's a good dog." Unlike his owner.

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"He's a handful." Eli meant that in the best way possible, of course. Despite it all, Pascal had become an important companion. "Hold on a second, though. Let me think about that." For a moment he went quiet, pretending to consider it a lot more than he actually was. "You know, I wouldn't mind a Sunday drive if there was a bit of brunch involved, too. Your treat?"

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[The Semblance of Unity]

He snorted. "Sure, my treat. There's a great diner by the highway." Horace swiped his hand against his jeans (bright orange) and pulled out his phone.

"What's your number then? We can make a date of it."

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"Don't get ahead of yourself, darling." Leaning casually onto one leg, he slipped his own phone from his back pocket. The shorts were too small for it to properly fit in the front. "The first time's never a date."

Without missing a beat, he rattled off his number as he thumbed idly through old text messages, then looked back down at Horace (and Pascal, who looked disappointed the pets had stopped). "Catch that okay?"

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