tampered | Log; Complete

On those days he works he dresses for work. Playing in a jazz club has always brought with it a certain level of formality. Nothing too crazy: trousers, nice shirt, jacket. Hair pulled back and out of the way. Saxophone: that's a must.

Today's not a work day, so it's a soft and faded pair of jeans, a plain white cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, a braided leather bracelet on his left wrist, his black hair a long and flowing curtain against that white backdrop. He sees the shepherd puppy first, follows it in his line of sight until he gets to Abby.

Most pets are like old friends to him. Not only did he grow up rescuing every stray cat he could find, but they had a number of dogs as well. Big ones: collies, German shepherds like Jethro Jr. here, mutts of all shapes and colors. As he gets closer he squats down and offers the puppy his hand.

"He's beautiful."

Taking in his appearance, she nods in approval. Hey, he can look good in anything. She's totally convinced of that.

Herself? She's got her usual short skirt, black t-shirt, pigtails, and boots with her typical armbands. Smiling, she kneels next to them to watch their interactions.

"Careful. He might get an ego."

With a grin, she watches Jethro eye Gren for moment before going over and sniffing his hand. Then licking it before setting a paw in it. "He likes you already. That means it's okay to be around me and to pet him. Jethro Jr. has cast his vote."

The puppy barks once and starts wagging his tail excitedly.

"Hi there, Jethro Junior." For all that tail-wagging, the puppy gets petted on both sides of his head at once with long, gentle strokes back and down his neck. "I'm glad I passed the test, or I might have had to bring out the platypus."

(He looks up at Abby and smirks.)

"I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I? I had to stop and get these." Standing, he reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out a few dog treats. "Okay to give them to him?"

"Yep. He loves them." Leaning her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, she just beams at him.

"And we got here pretty early. But we've been keeping ourselves occupied. Jethro likes his walks." Scratching the puppy's ears, she gives a small laugh as he stares at Gren. His eyes glued to the treats.

"Uh oh. You're in trouble now."

"No, no, not trouble. We call it making new friends." With a bone-shaped biscuit in his open palm, he kneels and holds it out steadily for the dog who seems only too happy to pick it off gingerly, gobbling it down. "So where did you find him? I want to hear the whole story."

Jethro Jr. couldn't have been wild: he's not straining at his leash or acting unhappy or anything. Then again, how could any creature who got to stay with Abby be unhappy?

She's the friendliest person he's ever met, and he's so grateful that she checked in on him that first time like she did. Ever since Pluto it's been hard for him to trust people and after what he's been through, a little skepticism is both well-earned and healthy. But it doesn't mean that he doesn't miss the days when he could follow his instincts and trust blindly until he'd finally been kicked enough times to realize someone wasn't really that great after all.

Kind of like... a puppy.

"Near police headquarters. Apparently no one wanted him or something like that. I was hearing weird noises coming to and from work. He looked so lonely and he was hungry. He gave me a look with his eyes that was so sad...I had to take him in."

Naturally, she would be one to check out a strange noise in the City and have it turn out to be a puppy.

"I think he ran away from the pet shop. But he didn't have a collar. And then Jack said I could keep him!"

With a look of sheer joy, she points to his ears. "If he were a stray his whole life, he wouldn't be this healthy or used to people. No one claimed him when I put up the picture though so the pet shop is the natural conclusion there. He's my baby now though!"

"No ticks, no fleas?" Not that it would matter: one time he brought home a cat that was so covered in fleas he needed a flea bath or two. Even that didn't stop him the next time, although his mom called him incorrigible in an indulgent kind of way.

And honestly, he has no idea if there are even ticks and fleas in this city. But there must be: they're everywhere. He gives Jethro Jr. another dog biscuit. "He's going to be big. Look at the size of his paws. Can I pick him up?"

At an early age he learned Rule One about dogs: whenever possible, ask for permission and preferably from their owner.

"Yep. He doesn't mind being picked up. He'll just lick your face off at first. Also, he had some fleas but I took care of those right away. And found out he loves bathes."

Standing back up, she hands her end of the leash to Gren so that way he's not pulling her around while he holds Jethro Jr. Besides that, she trusts him to not do something like run away with him.

He's good with Jethro: picking him up reminds him of when he was little, staggering down the street with yet another animal. Now that he's older -- he supposes he's perpetually twenty-nine -- he could carry the large puppy easily.

He'll settle for holding him. As promised, the dog gives him no shortage of kisses which... is kind of nice. Out of all the things he's missed, he didn't realize that pets were one of them. They've been about the last thing on his mind these three plus years.

"Good boy." His hand rests on the very back of Jethro's neck. "Abby, he really is a beautiful dog. You're lucky." Then he gives Jethro a little appraising look. "And you're lucky too, little comrade. You have one of the finest people I've ever met taking care of you. Don't take advantage of her, all right?"

A pair of brown puppy eyes stare up at him as if to say perish the thought.

"I love him to pieces. He's a sweetheart." Watching Gren hold Jethro really is a picture perfect moment. Especially when the puppy looks up at him in response to his words.

"And he can take advantage of me all he wants to. He's cute enough that I'll allow it." Patting Jethro's head, she goes over to where she left her bag. Okay, she really can't resist this. The temptation is just too great.

Spinning back around to them she has her camera in hand. "Now come on you two. This is too perfect to not take a picture."

The part of him that was invited to become a model at sixteen or seventeen is flattered enough to give her a very pretty smile that doesn't even look fake (mostly because it isn't), even though at twenty-nine and dead he's way past any kind of photogenic prime.

At least Jethro Jr. doesn't seem to mind; he gives the puppy a little kiss on the top of its furry head, ignoring the camera. God, he's missed animals. He's not going to get one -- it wouldn't be fair; he's gone way too much -- but at least his good friend Abby has one when he needs a... fix.

Maybe he'll use a different term. Yeah, that would probably be for the best.

She made sure to get a picture of him kissing the puppy as well. Studying both pictures, she brings the camera over to him so that he can see them.

"Look at what a cute couple you make." With a little smile, she winks at Gren. Then she continues the teasing. "Careful, you two. I might get jealous."

For that, she got a little bark from Jethro who licked her face once then settled back down to content panting.

All his life he's been a touch-centered person: embraces, kisses, hand-holding, intimate contact once he was older. Those things used to mean the world to him and he supposes contact was his first-ever craving and addiction. His delightful and highly personalized prison education taught him that there really is such a thing as too much of something you love; on Pluto, one addiction got replaced with another and the first became tainted and soured. It could well be that this dog is the first living thing he's held this closely and for this long since then who hasn't filled him with panic and distaste.

It's almost a miracle, and he could almost cry. For a long moment he closes his eyes, buries the side of his face against the puppy, lets Jethro Jr. kiss him to his heart's content... and then he gently sets the dog down and hands the leash to Abby. Jethro's her dog, after all.

"At least the dog looks good in the pictures." As always, the pleasant smile on his face belies the turmoil he hides inside. "Should we take him for a walk?"

At first she takes the leash. The smile she's given is pleasant enough but she has a feeling there's more to it. She notices things like this. Even when no one else realizes it. Tilting her head to the side, she hands the leash back to him...then takes a step forward and hugs him.

"Yeah. But you hold the leash. I get to see him all the time now. So, you hold it, okay?" Pulling back slightly, she smiles sweetly at him.

"You'd like that, right?"

This absolute litany of hug me, hold me, don't let me go wages a perfectly effective war in his mind with the other voice, the one that goes touch me and I'll kill you and it stops him cold... but only for a split second until he forces himself back to the here and now.

"Sure. I'll be glad to walk him."

Out here in the sunshine he's flooded with a realization he's had but successfully fought off before: he's been so lonely for so long and hasn't let himself dwell on that because there was no point. Everything he did, he did while counting down the days until his bounty finally expired. Callisto was never his planet and Blue Crow was never his home.

They were just secondary prisons, and now he's here and he'll never be able to return to Mars or to Titan. Never, and he's not sure what's worse: missing the life he used to have before prison so bitterly or realizing that once again, he's been brought to a place against his will and there's no way out. This kind of thinking is a sure-fire recipe for panic if he lets it go there.

He can't, and so he takes the leash into his right hand and rests his left arm gently around Abby's waist. Right now he needs benevolent human contact more than anything.

Leaning against him slightly, she studies his appearance again. He looks...well...hot. It's great look on him. The clothes, the hair...

"You know, I like your hair like that." She thinks out loud but makes sure to direct it at him. "Pulled back looks great on you too but I like this just as much. Not every guy can pull off having long hair and be that sexy."

Giving him a nod, she looks ahead as they walk. She has no idea what's going on through his head but she loves being held. So the contact is something she doesn't mind at all.

Of course, they have to keep coming to a stop because Jethro Jr. has to great everyone.

"I'm not sexy."

He's not going to argue the point; it's just his opinion that any man with half a woman's body can be called curious and interesting and weird and all that stuff, but not sexy. But if Abby really wants to think so, he guesses she's as entitled to her opinion as he is to his own.

"But I forgot what a great attention-getter puppies on leashes can be. Everyone stops to say hello to them." (He's about three seconds away from having a complete breakdown.) "And they stop to say hello to everyone too." (If he just keeps talking, he'll be fine. Talking and breathing.) "He's really good on the leash, and he seems to get it about not running into the middle of the street. In a city this size, that's good."

His arm around her waist never tightens, but he doesn't let go either. "And you were going to tell me why he's named Jethro Junior. Who's Jethro Senior?" (He just needs a running conversation, and he needs it badly.)

She wonders what's wrong with him. Something obviously is and he doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Wrapping her right arm around his waist, she leans her head on his should as she tells the story.

"There was a case where a guy was killed and it looked like it was done by the military dog living with him. McGee shot the dog and there was all of this evidence pointing to the dog being the killer. I named the poor thing Jethro. He stayed with me in the lab during the case. When they were going to take him away, I locked the two of us in my office. Only I can unlock it when that happens.

"They were going to put him down but I knew he was innocent. Finally I proved that and saved him. Jethro works with the other military dogs again." Looking down the street, she just starts guiding them to lesser crowded area.

"The first Jethro is Gibbs though. Jethro Gibbs."

"Oh, that explains why there's a Gibbs part of the story. I was wondering about that." Her head against his shoulder is kind of nice; it helps ground him just a little bit and under other circumstances he'd lean against her but the puppy's strong and pulling and if he let Jethro Junior do it, they'd be running right now, all three of them. But he does know how to walk a dog, which isn't always as easy as it seems.

"And this lucky little guy isn't the first dog you've saved. I guess you have just as much affinity toward them as you do toward people." As much as he does, Abby likes saving people and things. She's the one who came to his rescue that night when he made that accidental one-word network post: don't. He never did say the rest of that sentence to anybody, but it only had two more words: touch and me. Why is it so easy to lapse back into old self-defenses? Something in the way the mind works. A so-called therapist explained it to him from the other side of the cell bars when he was in solitary and they were denying him the drugs they'd been testing on him. All over a little refusal to take them one day in a rare fit of strength. They didn't know it was premeditated... but he did. It was the day after they'd double-dosed him so they could take more blood samples and their little scientific experiment almost killed him and then... well, he vaguely remembers what happened next but fortunately his brain is a very protective thing and won't ever let the memories through in any kind of detail. He's glad for that.

He's also glad they're moving out of the crowds to a quieter set of streets. The only crowds he likes to let himself spend a lot of time in any more are the ones at the clubs where he plays. And even there, he moves around with a cushion of surrounding space.

He can't have it any other way.

"I don't know if I ever really thanked you for coming to my rescue that night when we first talked, but I really appreciate it."

"It's just the right thing to do."

She says it as if it's the simplest thing ever. Then again, for her it is. Because it's the right thing, it needs to be done. Sure she doesn't have all the military or police training but proving the innocence of a dog or bringing an animal off the street or giving someone a hug are things she can do.

Without taking her head off his shoulder, she looks up at him.

"Sometimes accidents are really good. I don't regret it. Besides, you looked like you needed someone. Maybe that just me. That's what I saw though. Instead of ignoring the accidental hacking, I decided to reply to it. It was worth it."

"Not everybody does the right thing. Not everyone's compelled to act in anyone else's best interest: human or canine, friend or enemy." And he thinks okay, that's enough of that: it's over, it's done with, it's out of the way, and he's not going to start thinking about Vicious now. Immediate crisis averted... he thinks.

He hopes. When Jethro Jr. stops to investigate an interesting smell near the curb, he takes a moment and kisses the top of Abby's head. There's nothing in it but affection and gratitude; women aren't (and are) his style right now.

Maybe some day.

"So tell me. Tell me. What do your roommates think of him, and how are you doing, and what else is going on besides having a puppy chew up everything?"

And does she really think he's sexy? A breeze catches his hair, blowing it in front of his face; he moves his arm from around her waist and pushes it back and around.

Why did Lin take his comb?

"They love him. Though, how could they not? He's the biggest sweet heart you could meet. Well not ever. Luckily I didn't add that to the sentence. It's great having him around. The chewing thing isn't too big of deal and we're working on that. Aren't we, Jethro?"

She gets a bark in reply before he goes back to the wonderful mysterious scent. Looking back at Gren again, she watches him push his hair back into place.

"Are you still without your comb?"

Because if he is, she'll be happy to fix that problem.

"Oh, no, I got a new one." That was the easy part of the equation: those things are a woolong a dozen, or that's what they used to say on Mars. "But combs can't keep the wind from blowing, can they." Now he lets loose with a little smile: that moment of panic has definitely passed; it's such a relief. He doesn't have to go with the whole hi, I'm Gren and I'm crazy and I'm sane, I'm male and I'm female, I'm decent and I'm an escaped convict thing today.

"Jethro. What have you got there?" Crouching down, he reaches over to pet the dog: who wouldn't? When he looks back up at Abby, she gets an appreciative if somewhat tired smile. Those kinds of stress -- those types of memories -- take a lot out of him. "It's an old moldy tennis ball stuck in the grate. Come here, Jethro. Here." Fortunately, he can distract the puppy with one more dog biscuit, fresh out of his pocket. "Let's stop and get you a new one. Then you can roll it around in the muck and the mud and the water and the leaves and get it smelling really good all over again."

He picks up Jethro, scratches him behind the ears. "If that's okay with your new mom, that is."

Nope. They can't. Which means that his hair will keeping getting tossed about like that. And hey, she a healthy woman so she can appreciate that sight easily.

"Aw would you like a new tennis ball to mess up, Jethro?" She leans forward and lets him give kisses all over her face. It's hard to resist puppy kisses. "Okay. You convinced me. You can have one."

She smiles at the two in front of her. "I should bring him over whenever I stop by the apartment so you guys can hang out. Or you could stop by and visit me sometime. Would you like that, sweetie?"

Of course, she's talking to the dog who instantly starts wiggling so he can try and give everyone kisses.

She's talking to Jethro, but... not really. When he sets the dog down again he offers the leash to Abby for a second time: she really might want it and it's okay with him. Jethro was just an excuse to spend time with her anyway.

"Bring him over any time. I don't have much that he can destroy." Just his saxophone, but that disassembles neatly and closes up into its case and the case... well, that's practically indestructible. He's used it as a weapon so many times, and it's never failed him.

"And if it's okay with the king of the house here, I will stop by and visit sometime. As long as he promises not to chew on me."

That makes him laugh.

"Fresh tennis ball, Jethro? I know just where to get one." He walks through this city twice a night, four nights a week. He knows what's here and more than that, he's always known how to get what he needs.

Taking the leash this time, she looks like she's giving his words serious thought. "Let's see, Jethro would let you. I can already tell you that. Jack though..." She eyes him. "Hm. You're cute enough you could probably escape detection." And she winks. "Then again, I've already had a naked minor in my room."

Then she smiles again and reaches out to take his hand with her free one. Gren seems like he's okay now. He's smiling and laughing again. Still, holding hands usually doesn't hurt.

"Oh and lead the way mighty knowing one for the location of fresh tennis balls."

It's a good thing they're not still playing the innuendo game, or the whole location of fresh tennis balls thing would be fodder for all sorts of off-color stuff.

Of course, he could also make a comment about naked minors in her room, but that's really Abby's business and he's perfectly all right not going there, even if she's joking. And he's not sure she is, and he wouldn't put anything past her. She's the one who talked about boy toys a lot when they first met, after all.

No matter what, her hand in his is fine. It's nice; it doesn't set off any alarms in his brain right now. And if it sends the wrong message to anyone else, too bad: whatever they do is their business and no one else's. It's not like it's going to lead anywhere anyway.

"Just a few blocks over and one up. There's a sporting goods store: tennis, baseball, skateboard, things like that." They also sell dog toys at the pet shop, but if she really thinks Jethro escaped from there, this lets them sidestep the block the pet shop's on completely. And that seems like a pretty smart idea.

Another gust of wind catches his hair. He rolls his eyes a little, fiddles in his jeans pocket hoping for a hair elastic, but comes up empty. Oh well.

It's not the first time he's paid the price for being so pretty.

"Few blocks up and one over. Right."

Out of the corner of her eye she notices him messing with his pockets looking for something. And his hair freely blowing around. It's kind of funny to watch him. She has to bite her lip to keep from doing something like laughing.

The hair issue is something she can help with though.

Taking her hand back, she takes off one of her wristbands and hooks the leash on her arm. After, she stops them and moves behind him. The wristband is ready to go. Lucky for her, it's cloth instead of leather so it will make a decent hair tie.

And they say dressing in the goth style isn't handy.

"Good thing you have someone resourceful with you. This is would just be hopeless otherwise. Now, hold still so I can pull your hair back."

"Do you know how long it's been since anyone else fussed with my hair?"

He lets her, though, and waits obediently. The front of his hair's too short to go into a pony tail and he knows that, but the bulk of it reaches nearly to his waist. Patient, he lets Abby ties it back and when she's done he reaches back, like he's verifying the job she's done.

"So much for that sexy look, right?" He laughs, though. "If I'd known it was going to be so windy, I would've come prepared. Thanks." He reaches for her hand again, gives it a little squeeze: his earlier little moment aside, this has been a good way to spend the...

Oh, hell, why not: he pulls Abby over for a hug. If she can do it, so can he.

"You're sexy no matter what. It's just part of who you are." She hugs him back without a single moment of hesitation.

"You're welcome too. And you can keep the wristband if you want. I've got lots. I went shopping not that long ago. Though, I somehow managed to forget to buy what I was really there for. I do that sometimes if there's a really great technology display somewhere."

She shrugs. Caffeine and technology. Addicted to both. Not that she cares what anyone thinks about that. Being a caffeinated techno-geek is fun. And she gets paid to be one in forensics. That's just beyond cool.

"You're sweet." That compliment earns her a kiss on the forehead. "And you can have the wristband back when we get back to the fountain. But speaking of shopping... are you in a hurry this afternoon? Because if you have the time, I want you to show me the place that stocks the Caf-Pow so I can get some for all those visits you'll be making to Building 10."

Yeah, that painful moment is definitely over; he's back to normal, whatever that means. With his arm around Abby again, they head off in the direction of that sporting goods store, stopping every five feet or so for the puppy to check out something new and different and utterly fascinating.

If things were any more normal, they'd be downright weird.

"I've got plenty of time. No work today after all. You have me for as long as you want this afternoon. Especially if it involves Caf-Pow."

With a big smile, she leans her head against his shoulder again. All the while, amused by people passing by getting the wrong impression. Oh well. They just don't understand being close to friends.

This is nice. Hanging out with a friend and spoiling her new pet.

She'll have to make sure to drag Gren around for more nice afternoons...or nights...or mornings...like this in the future.

[ooc: And fade~]

Log; Complete

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