"So what? That's not goin' ta kill them!" At least those dumb things would be a little more careful about wandering around.
Murphy's tail had only begun wagging when Connor smacked his nose. He pulled back, bowing down to tend at his nose with his paw as he sniffed.
"Aye, it's mine! I can do with it whatever the fuck I want." Scratching his muzzle with his paw one last time, he glared at the man. "Why the fuck are't yeh wearing yers anyway?"
"Yeh know it could make 'em drop their lambs early! Yeh used ta care about this shite, Murph..." Okay, maybe not as much as Connor had. But he'd seen Murphy get irate with people walking their dogs off the lead during lambing season and letting them run havoc with the flock.
He watched as Hannibal finally guided the sheep into the next field and walked over to the gate to shut it. All the time he had one eye on his canid brother.
"Mine needs washing. It's not like yeh need it at the moment."
Murphy walked quietly behind his brother, not wanting to drop the argument but well aware of how Connor was capable of showing off he was right most of the time. Just because he didn't need his jumper to wear that didn't make it less of his property.
The lamb's scent was mixed with something else in the wind. Familiar, but he wasn't sure if... Christ, this was still too new for him.
"I want me rosary back." He pointed out distractedly.
"That'll do." He told the sheepdog, who instantly returned to him to accept a scritch on the head for a job well done. Connor really did understand that there was a lot for Murphy to get used to, there was plenty for them both adjust to, but why couldn't his twin at least act a little more like Hannibal?
His attentions on the dog instantly shifted to Murphy at that. "What the fuck are yeh gonna do with it?"
His hand left the dog's head and touched his chest, where he could feel both crosses nestling against each other under his clothes.
"And why do yeh want it fer?" He looked up at his brother, Murphy's head slightly cocked to the side. "It's mine. I want ta wear it."
Murphy's gaze fell on the sheepdog, so much bigger and clearly reliable on his brother's eyes. He might not be able to stand on his hind legs any more, and it had taken him a while to get used to his new mouth and lack of lips before he could speak properly.
But he was still Murphy MacManus. Only his Da seemed to remember that nowadays.
"I was looking after it fer yeh." And that's the God's Honest Truth. It was bad enough that Connor didn't truly have his brother with him right now, he needed to keep him close to him in some way. "Yeh might loose it if yeh wear it."
"C'mon... I'm hungry..." He flicked his hand back towards the cottage, Hannibal darting away in a second. He began to trudge back through the wet, long grass, but paused for Murphy. "Do yeh want me ta carry yeh?"
A soft whine escaped Murphy, making Hannibal prick up his ears and give him a curious look. He knew that Connor was probably right on this one, but that didn't mean he was happy with it. "I'd like to touch it now and then though."
Sniffing the air again, the scent traveling int the wind grow stronger. He glanced down at the house, Conno's tall figure waiting for him, offering help even. But then the woods were so close by, and all those invitations to explore.
Neither side had anyone like him anymore, but his heart ached for a Connor that would understand him.
"I'll get in yer fridge then." He warned, not completely sure if he was capable of opening the door by himself. Hell, he could always try.
At the mention of the cat, Murphy straightened up to his full height, neck craned as he gave the air a good sniff. He immidiatly picked the cat's scent and where it seemed to come from, where it was stronger... In a blink of the eye he had spotted it, his tail slowly swaying in a proud wag.
"Yeh've got anythin' else aside from beer there, wop?" Licking his muzzle, he trotted towards the small kitchen, his claws making clicking sounds on the wooden floor.
"I'm not doin' shite to 'em!" And what was that hiss for, cat?? He's being honest!
"What do you want? I got some lunch meat, some leftovers from my mom's... There's ice cream and frozen pizza in the fridge. Don't think you should be havin' that, the way you are now."
You're scaring his cat, Murphy! Not fucking cool. "Dude, get over here and let me fuckin' find you something to eat."
All those options only got Murphy excited. Letting out what sounded like a nervous chirping, he headed towards Rocco, circling his legs and between them.
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Murphy's tail had only begun wagging when Connor smacked his nose. He pulled back, bowing down to tend at his nose with his paw as he sniffed.
"Aye, it's mine! I can do with it whatever the fuck I want." Scratching his muzzle with his paw one last time, he glared at the man. "Why the fuck are't yeh wearing yers anyway?"
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He watched as Hannibal finally guided the sheep into the next field and walked over to the gate to shut it. All the time he had one eye on his canid brother.
"Mine needs washing. It's not like yeh need it at the moment."
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The lamb's scent was mixed with something else in the wind. Familiar, but he wasn't sure if... Christ, this was still too new for him.
"I want me rosary back." He pointed out distractedly.
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His attentions on the dog instantly shifted to Murphy at that. "What the fuck are yeh gonna do with it?"
His hand left the dog's head and touched his chest, where he could feel both crosses nestling against each other under his clothes.
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Murphy's gaze fell on the sheepdog, so much bigger and clearly reliable on his brother's eyes. He might not be able to stand on his hind legs any more, and it had taken him a while to get used to his new mouth and lack of lips before he could speak properly.
But he was still Murphy MacManus. Only his Da seemed to remember that nowadays.
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"C'mon... I'm hungry..." He flicked his hand back towards the cottage, Hannibal darting away in a second. He began to trudge back through the wet, long grass, but paused for Murphy. "Do yeh want me ta carry yeh?"
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Sniffing the air again, the scent traveling int the wind grow stronger. He glanced down at the house, Conno's tall figure waiting for him, offering help even. But then the woods were so close by, and all those invitations to explore.
Neither side had anyone like him anymore, but his heart ached for a Connor that would understand him.
"I... Might go later."
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[Pauses, wait--] Forget that. If you had fucking cat claws, you'd just scratch me up for the hell of it.
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*Well, technically, it is. In this new body, at least.*
I could still scratch yeh. *he looks up at Rocco, licking at his muzzled* Fer actin' like a retard.
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At the mention of the cat, Murphy straightened up to his full height, neck craned as he gave the air a good sniff. He immidiatly picked the cat's scent and where it seemed to come from, where it was stronger... In a blink of the eye he had spotted it, his tail slowly swaying in a proud wag.
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He eyed Murphy when he saw him spot Skippy, eyes narrowing a little. "Hey, remember what I fuckin' said! Don't torment'em, Murph'."
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"I'm not doin' shite to 'em!" And what was that hiss for, cat?? He's being honest!
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You're scaring his cat, Murphy! Not fucking cool. "Dude, get over here and let me fuckin' find you something to eat."
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"All of it!"
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