Miles was thoroughly impressed by the woman's attitude towards him, but it felt too weird for any of it to be true; he knew that it wasn't a dream, Scout usually has his long ears wrapped around his neck -much like a scarf- in his dreamworld. All that he could do was to listen to her speak, absorbing every word and picturing every phrase in his mind. He couldn't brag too much about loving humans, not after he taught himself to avoid them and be on guard at all times when around them; his own life experience made him hate humans. With all the nice things Christa said to him, he still had his defenses up, ready to take insults and ridicule with a straight face. Yet, he stood there, smiling at her, taking her kind words in to heal his broken ego.

"Hey, I got your back too, it's my job after all. Well, I've got your everything, the contract tells. Look, ma'am, I-"

The next thing he knew, he felt his hand touched by something and gripped tight, his first reaction was to hesitate and jerk his head down; he saw Christa's hand grasping at his own, then, her smiling at him. He felt embarrassed of his first, evasive reaction towards her and tried to correct his mistake by swiftly placing his right hand over hers to give a squeeze back, allowing a breathy chuckle to warm up the air between the two.

"Okay, ma- sorry. I mean, Chrissy. It'll take a while, yeah."

The wink killed him. His ears pointed up and he could feel his tail waggle somewhere behind him, hitting the cushions of the seat. [i]That was the most inconspicuous moment of my life, good job, Miles[/i], he told himself as he averted her gaze to try to kill the excitement that was a bit too obvious to be hidden. The waitress eventually popped up beside them, Miles erred a little before he spoke out his choices for lunch.

"A Californian style burger, fries and water. Oh, and I'd like the meat cooked medium-rare, please." And, as expected of an anthro, he paid his order straight up, including the tip. The K-9 sighed as he watched the waitress leave, feeling eager to talk more with Christa now. [i]Get a grip, you thick idiot[/i] he scolded himself, [i]you know better than to trust anyone outright. She may seem to be good and all, but give he a moment's slip and you'll see.[/i]

"So, if you're Chrissy, I must be- well, people call me Buck, Bucky, Mangy Mutt, Rex, Lassie, Dumb Dog, Fucktard, you pick." He then shifted his gaze down, a small smile visible on his lips. "Dad used to call me pup. He was pops, I was pup."

[i]Shit[/i], he thought, [i]now you've done it.[/i] He covered his face in shame and tried to laugh the slip off.

"Please don't call me that of all things. Call me Sparky or something, but not pup."

"And also, you need to understand these things." He started, looking straight at her while he tried to relax by allowing his weight to bury him in the soft cushion. "I'm not used to this kind of treatment from a human. Anthros, yes, so long they're not my colleagues, but I've rarely met a homo sapiens sapiens actually wanting to converse with me and try to be nice; I can't trust anyone easily, not anymore. Sure, I appreciate kindness, but I've learnt on my own pelt the costs of being naive; you can insist as much as you want that you're nice and all, but know that I need some time to sniff you out before I can say that you're super cool. Don't get me wrong, you are already pretty cool, but you're a few steps away from super cool. And by cool, I don't mean the opposite of hot, because you're hot too- oh jeez."

He covered his mouth, the corner of his lips hinted a wide grin, his yellow eyes glanced away and back to Christa; his brow was lifted, allowing some light to reflect upon the irises, his snout's perfection and small imperfections clearly visible under the direct ray of sunlight: sleek but masculine shape of the muzzle, strong jaw, a small mole hidden somewhere under the corner of his mouth, fine forest of white whiskers, a barely visible scar. The way he glanced back at the woman was a clear hint that he totally meant to let his last few words slip.