(Untitled)

[campjesus]

Christmas passes quietly and unobtrusively -- in spite of the great fuss Brody puts up a few days before when he scrambles to find gifts for every single person that he knows, which, given that he evidently knows the entire universe and then some, is quite an undertaking. He ends up stressed and upset and worrying about everything, but he can't

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[fireburned]

Harvestman is not going to use the bathroom and they both damn well know it. He jerks his head toward the other bedroom, slinging his well-battered bag over on a counter so the dog wouldn't get it.

(Not that the dog would be likely to touch it, in any case.)

"I'll get some furniture. Rob a Goodwill or something."

[campjesus]

"Mm." He doesn't seem too concerned by the lack of it, although it makes the place look a lot more depressing than it really is. It probably looks full of possibility to most people who move into the building, people who have stuff to fill it up with, but he's already tired thinking of all the shit they'd have to buy and then probably get rid of when they inevitably move. His hand drops down absently to scratch the dog -- who still does not have a name, he's waiting for genius to strike -- behind the ears.

"I wonder if the neighbours are jerks. I didn't see any of 'em."

[fireburned]

"I ain't gonna bother finding out." His hours made that so very helpful. He scratches at the scruff on his chin, giving the dog a slightly worried look. "Think if you walk him at night, folks won't... uh, notice much?"

[campjesus]

Brody glances down at the dog, which looks up at him, then gives what must be the equivalent of a doggie shrug before it goes wandering off to explore. "I don't think they'll care... I mean, it's not like he makes much noise." True; the dog has yet to bark even once. "And he doesn't poop much, so there's that."

Yes, thanks for that.