six_word_stories | (no subject)

The Labrador mix feels proud of himself for doing a job well done. His tongue reaches out, licking at Iggy's knuckles. It's been a long time since anyone besides Doctor Rosemary showed him a little bit of praise or kindness. Dogs thrive off even the smallest scraps tossed their way.

Bandit amuses himself as he waits with the normal things dogs do: sniffing out new scent trails, eating something he shouldn't, and trying to get people to pet him. He's least successful in this third venture. Tsk. People just can't seem to see the sweet dog beneath the robotic exterior.

When Iggy reappears, he's off once again. We find art now.

This time, it takes him a while to find the art store. Bandit is unfamiliar with the smells, so he has to backtrack once or twice until he finds the right trail. Dried flowers and paint mix together with a smell that he can't put a name to, forming a trail he can very nearly see as he follows it down the sidewalk. He goes right into the street, blithely crossing as a car comes to a screeching halt a few feet away, honking its horn at the happily oblivious dog.

Some people, Iggy not among them, had a collapsible cane for times like this. As it was, the honk -and the realization as to what it meant- had Iggy startling, turning all the way around twice before managing to pick up the dog's trail again.

Mostly he was amazed that he hadn't dropped the bag of groceries in his panic, and hadn't popped wing, which was something he'd had to train himself out of a long time ago. What he said when he caught up again was: "Dude, crosswalk next time, or just, wait until there's a gap in the traffic, okay?"

Bandit doesn't even realize what has happened until Iggy talks to him. His ears droop a little when he understands what happened. He wasn't always this cavalier when it came to traffic, but since being put into a suit that gave him the capacities of a small tank, he'd lost some of the natural fear that dogs possessed about cars.

His natural optimism isn't dimmed at all by Iggy's words. If anything, it grows. Dogs are naturally cheerful creatures, even one in a robotic suit.

O.K. Bandit do better.

Iggy, for his part, would have to work on not focusing so much on the sound of the dog that he didn't pay attention to other sounds, which would also help avoid running into traffic in the future. Probably.

He couldn't help but smile, just a little, knuckling the dog's head lightly again, "Okay. That's all I can ask." And a careful ruffle of Bandit's ears, "I'm guessing you smelled what we're looking for, though, right?"

Yes. We go now.

Dogs love any sort of physical contact. Bandit is no exception. He goes off down the street, most people giving the alien-looking dog a wide berth. He stops right in front of an art store, sitting down with a metallic Plunk!

Art here.

He relaxed a little when he learned that the dog was right, "Okay, good. I'll be right back."

The art store trip was even shorter than the grocery store trip had been, but that was because it was generally easier to ask for what he needed in an art supply store, as most people working there actually knew what he was talking about.

He emerged again, tucking the bag of supplies into the top of the grocery bag, "Okay, deli, let's get some lunch."

Deli!!! Lunch is gud!!

Bandit said the words with more than just a little enthusiasm. Lunch meant meat, and meat as everyone knew, was one of the seven wonders of the world. He hadn't gotten much meat in the lab. It was all very bland food and vitamins to keep his systems from rejecting the suit. Now that he was out, he was going to eat all the meat he wanted to.

He smiled at that, because while he didn't quite know the reasons for that enthusiastic response, they were ones he could relate to all the same, and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing better than a hot pastrami sandwich to top off a day of collecting supplies.

But he asked, even as he followed, "Which do you like better, roast beef or pastrami?"

Bandit put his nose to the ground, following the scents to where all the meat was being kept. This was the easiest job by far, for Bandit merely needed to use his instincts, very little thinking required. At the question, Bandit gave a big, doggie smile.

Beef. Lots and lots.

He takes Iggy right to nearest deli, plenty of cured meats hanging in the windows.

Here. Meat place deli.

"All the beeves, gotcha." He replied, smile going a little crooked, "Sit tight, I'll be right back, then we'll see if we can't find someplace to sit and eat."

They had, apparently, just beaten the lunch rush, which was just fine with Iggy, as it meant he was in and out fairly quickly, and didn't much have to worry about a crowd making things difficult.

He emerged again before long, the bag with the sandwiches in one hand, "Hope you like wheat bread, they wouldn't sell me a sandwich with no bread on it."

Bread gud for dogs. Bandit says this with an almost sly tone to his robotic voice. He knows very well he's not supposed to eat bread, but he's all dog. He's certainly not going to turn down chunks of bread surrounded by all that good meat.

Com. We sit. Bandit leads Iggy over to a nearby bench. His tail is thumping around again inside his suit, producing a muted sort of thumping sound as he anticipates being able to get some meat.

Iggy knew that bread wasn't necessarily good for dogs, but that a little bit wouldn't hurt, the same as the two slices of cheese on the sandwich weren't exactly nutritionally sound, but wouldn't do Bandit any real harm, especially as he seemed sturdier than most dogs.

Sitting down after only a moment to suss out just where the bench actually was, he wedged the bag with his purchases between his feet. He pulled the bag with the sandwiches out of the top, running his fingers over the wrappers, setting one in his lap and unwrapping the other, setting it on the bench beside him where Bandit could get it, with a warning of: "Don't eat the paper."

Bandit dives into the sandwich with the gusto only a dog can have. Food is the stuff of life for dogs and they generally think with their stomachs. He tries to enjoy rather than woofing it all down at once, but he still finishes quite a bit of time before Iggy does.

He sits there and licks all the way around his chops and nose, getting all the bits stuck to his furry face that he missed the first time around. Bandit happy dog!