After Julien left him alone again, Andrew looked at the mountain of bags on the counter and sighed.
I should catalogue it first.
But the groceries needed to be dealt with before anything else. Perishables first, then pantry items, followed by everything else.
Pulling things out one by one, he began filing things away while noting their placements. There wasn't a lot of light—only reflections from the fragile ornaments hanging above the counter—but that was fine. The light catching on the brilliant crystal reminded him of stars in the night sky.
It also reminded him of his sister, and the cheap, luminescent scraps they used to glue to the walls.
It couldn't quite be compared though.
He's only two years younger than she would've been…
Andrew paused.
I could use that.
Not his memories of her per se, but the closeness… from when they were younger at least.
His expression darkened, his movements slowing as he became lost in thought.
Besides, what could be more effective than treating Julien better than he had his own sister?
A scornful smile ghosted across his lips.
The thought was both efficient and yet undeniably laughable.
…But wouldn't it work?
Tapping his finger against the countertop, Andrew watched the reflections of the faintly blinking lights on its surface. He was too young back then and made an irreparable mistake but this chance was new and unbroken… if he could really be better…
Andrew shook his head.
That isn't it.
It wasn't about being better or worse—it was about whether he could fulfill his end of the deal. While the situation was still dormant, he needed Julien's trust—otherwise, there was nothing he could do if things took a turn for the worse.
But…
He sighed as he placed the butter in the fridge.
Hágale sin mente…(Don't overthink it...)
Even if he had doubts about what he was supposed to do… he was already here. The best he could do was just be… here.
He paused.
Was that why?
Tilting his head, Andrew decided to let time do all the talking. For now, all he could be sure of was the task in front of him.
Pulling out a box of waffles, he moved with a practiced silence as he mindfully avoided bumping into the delicate decor with his larger stature. It could be—inconvenient—at times, but with a space this large, there were fewer obstacles than usual—Something he was grateful for.
There wasn't a lot of food to put away to begin with; fruits, salads, and just barely enough to make breakfast for a week or two—if used sparingly.
I should buy more later.
With the last loaf of bread stowed away, he turned to the rest of the bags. There had to be at least twenty of them cluttered on the counter's granite surface.
This can't just be mine.
But according to Julien, it was.
He sifted through them, attempting to find some semblance of order in the chaos. Dog toys and pet care items, toiletries and a bathrobe?, an excessive amount of cleaning supplies, and… things he just couldn't classify.
It was as though someone went down the aisles and just threw anything they could into the cart—with little regard for what they were grabbing or how much.
Flustered, he plopped onto a nearby stool.
Catálogue. Necesito hacer un catálogo, rápido.
He fiddled with his watch again, and after a few minutes, he resumed the tedious task.
Why? Donde… Aquí, no, here. ¿Qué es…?
Considering he called Theia only a week ago to let her know about his sudden…predicament, this was both impressive and extremely uncomfortable.
He half expected to lose the job. But let alone fire him, she seemed almost amused when she'd heard from him, and she was being nothing if not accommodating.
He pulled out a dog bed and placed it beside the couch.
This is too much though.
As the bags slowly dwindled, he arrived at the final, unsorted pile of… stuff.
Half of it was definitely Northern tech he just hadn't seen before, likely the few things Theia said she'd send him from the beginning. The other stuff—it could've been anything. Souvenirs, cup holders, toys for the dog, a flower pot even? He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Rich people are so… unique.
He caressed the collar around his neck, letting his finger linger over the clasp before dropping his hand. It was the most unique item by far, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel any comfort from it.
I'll wear it for a little while longer.
He huffed—his version of a laugh.
Andrew decided to leave the questionable pile in one of the bags and moved on.
Cleaning supplies went under sinks or into the storage rooms, toiletries went in the bathroom, and dog food went in the pantry. Everything else was either placed around the space like the dog bed or organized in storage.
How does he manage to find anything around here?
He suspected that Julien may not even bother searching, simply buying new things as he loses the old. Regardless, after an hour, he was finally done, and Andrew was more than ready to finally have a proper conversation with the young man.
He sat down on the recliner and watched the stairwell, expecting the red-head to show up any second now.
But instead of Julien, it was the puppy.
With one hesitant step after the other, the small pup's nose naturally led her towards the two bowls laid out for her earlier.
Sniff
She gingerly took a bite.
Andrew watched her until her belly became round and only once she was done did he call out to her.
"Perrita."
She looked in his direction as though startled before happily bounding towards him on her stout little legs when she realized who called—ears bouncing all the while.
Scooping her up and pressing her close, he let her cute little tongue moisten his face with kibble scented saliva. She looked much healthier than before, not by much, but enough to make him feel relieved.
"Too trusting, Perrita."
She stared at him innocently, her whole body vibrating with her tail.
"He didn't even name you."
Stroking her patchy body, careful not to accidentally push on her ribs too much, he felt his brow furrow.
I should've done more than break a window.
Lifting her up, his eyes passed over her raggedy red collar that was somehow given with even less care than the one seated around his neck. No return number, no tags, nothing. It's doubtful she was ever even microchipped.
He should've known someone like that wouldn't have bothered with something like a name before Julien pointed it out, but he didn't.
Should I name her myself?
He observed her carefully as she fought sleep in his arms like a toddler.
No…
He wasn't even sure if he was able to keep her.
Actually, bringing her all the way here may've already been a step in the wrong direction—even if Theia had enthusiastically co-signed the arrangement. This was first-and-foremost Julien's place so if he didn't want her…
Maybe an animal sanctuary… no. Maybe the Creeds would want her.
The thought of sending her away made him a bit… he slowly leaned back so that he was flat on the recliner and she was laying flat on his chest.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
But maybe taking care of her was what he needed. To slowly watch her grow healthier and lose her fear. To regain the life she couldn't have in Onyx. To put it simply—
She subtly licked his palm, and he rubbed her head in return.
It was too late for him.
Letting out a slow breath to not disturb her slumber, he considered a few different names while running his thumb over her ears before giving up. He mumbled.
"I'll think of something."
Her warm breath tickling his arm caused Andrew's eyes to slowly grow dim as he became lost in thought.
Closing his eyes, he let himself sink.
—
It was dark, the sun having only just settled below the skyline of the South Eastern District, quickly covered by the plumes of black ash that gave the City of Omens its nickname, Onyx.
Rain poured down on him from both the sky and the crisscross of streets overhead, causing his clothes to cling to his back and the chilly night air to seep into his skin. The sound of raindrops hitting alloy assembly trucks and the lids of waste disposal stations was just barely enough to cover his tracks. But Andrew didn't slow down.
Why am I doing this?
He hardly even knew the small thing, yet he was risking the best chance he'd ever gotten since leaving the army just to get her away from this place? It didn't make any logical sense, and yet, he acted.
He glanced down at the creature cradled in his arms.
"It's alright, Perro."
He cooed, but received not even a whimper in reply. The wounded pup remained still, her temperature high even in the cold and exhaustion evident on her face. He did his best to shield her from the rain.
The sound of glass shattering on the wet stone beside him, and angry, heavy footsteps growing louder and louder—as if the old drunk finally learned how to aim a shot—proved more tenacious than he expected.
He's faster than he looks.
Andrew hadn't done something like this in a long time.
He thought that part of himself withered long ago, alongside any hopes he had for a different past, present, and future. That being told what to think, how to feel, and where to go would be enough, and that loss would cure him of the affliction called selfishness.
Yet, here he was.
He continued to run, cutting corners, jumping ledges, and slowly climbing to the higher levels while dodging stray overhangs barely hanging onto the fronts of condemned barber shops and shoddy motels.
When the scent of synth oil hit his nose, he knew he was close. With hastened steps, he finally reached the only parking garage in the city. He wasted no time ducking behind a pillar and crouching down.
Andrew glanced at the young beagle in his arms, making sure she was still alright.
Not much longer.
The older man didn't take long to enter the parking garage behind him. He made short work checking behind every pillar, and inside every car he could see all while Andrew tactfully avoided his rageful gaze.
He must've known he would show up here, otherwise, how the bumbling drunk managed to catch up was beyond him.
"Oy chinito, y-you can't go snatching other people's dogs like that y'hear!"
The middle-aged man stumbled into the middle of the parking garage when his search proved fruitless. He'd long run out of bottles to throw and took to kicking peoples cars instead.
"¿Entiendes lo que estoy diciendo? (Do you understand what I'm saying?)"
Andrew didn't reply. All he needed was for the man to walk away.
"Cabrón, (Fucking asshole.) You took it just because es a little hungry?"
The man sniffled. Kneeling forward like he was about to puke, he squinted into the dark.
"Not everyone en el mundo puede permitirse comida pa' su pinche perro, jackass. But ese's man's best friend right there, we're tight. (Not everyone can afford food for their fucking dog, jackass.)"
He crossed his fingers as if to emphasize what he was saying, not caring whether Andrew would see the gesture or not.
Andrew's eyebrow twitched. It was more than just 'a little hungry.' She was being abused.
If it weren't for Andrew and a few of the other neighbors slipping her scraps when they could, picking glass from her paws, and patching her injuries, she would've died some way or the other ages ago. And even though Andrew was more fortunate than most, he wasn't around often enough to stop it.
But circumstances had changed.
After this latest job, he would leave Onyx for good. He'd saved enough to leave on his own years ago, but that wasn't enough. He needed to take those kids and his mothers out of here too.
And now that everyone was out, and his few worldly possessions were packed and sent away, he saw an opportunity he never even considered. Without giving himself time to think, he committed a dog-napping when the man left for the liquor store.
But he didn't stop there.
Intending to make it look like a break in, he may have broken a window.
Or two.
It was a necessary evil.
Unfortunately, that man came back not even a minute later—having forgotten his wallet—leading to the current situation.
A lack of foresight on his part.
His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of fading footsteps.
"Fucking asshole."
The man had left the parking garage.
Soon, the only sound left was dripping water and his own breathing. He stepped out from behind the pillar, did a once over of the surroundings, and headed towards his car.
Opening the backseat, he grabbed a spare towel and carefully wrapped the small pup in the coarse fabric, holding her close as he slid into the front seat.
With her secure, he started the car, cranked up the heat, and braced himself against the wheel for a call that could very well cost him his new contract, but at least his original goal was already met.
"Let's go."
It was more a statement for him than anyone else.