[ It's winter break from the Conservatory, so Verso lugs his suitcase from his little apartment above the patisserie all the way back to the Dessendre estate, loaded with enough clothing and toiletries to last him through the holidays, although admittedly he doesn't need it. Maman always keeps his room exactly as it was when he moved out, wardrobe filled with clothes and toothpaste on the bathroom counter. The favoritism is nauseating, Clea once said.
It's that suitcase making noise as it clatters to the floor in the living room that alerts the dogs; they come running as they always do, yipping in excitement as Monoco jumps up to put his front paws on Verso's legs, Noco nipping at his ankles. He's missed them terribly—the dogs have always felt like his, not the family's. He's the one who (until very recently) fed them, walked them, played with them. ]
I brought you something.
[ Crouching to lay open the suitcase, he fishes through for a little leather ball, embossed with a floral pattern the dogs won't be able to appreciate at all. He stands, arm reared back to toss the ball. ]
Fetch, [ he says, throwing it down the hall at the exact moment Gustave rounds the corner. ]
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It's that suitcase making noise as it clatters to the floor in the living room that alerts the dogs; they come running as they always do, yipping in excitement as Monoco jumps up to put his front paws on Verso's legs, Noco nipping at his ankles. He's missed them terribly—the dogs have always felt like his, not the family's. He's the one who (until very recently) fed them, walked them, played with them. ]
I brought you something.
[ Crouching to lay open the suitcase, he fishes through for a little leather ball, embossed with a floral pattern the dogs won't be able to appreciate at all. He stands, arm reared back to toss the ball. ]
Fetch, [ he says, throwing it down the hall at the exact moment Gustave rounds the corner. ]