The first words out of Brian's mouth when Justin brought it home was, "Get that thing the fuck out of my loft."
"Brian," Justin said exasperatedly. "Hold him, you'll like him."
"I won't like him. I hate him," Brian said, walking away as Justin approached. Justin followed him all around the loft, finally cornering him in the bathroom and pushing the puppy to his chest until he had no choice but to take it or else drop it on the floor. He took it, but only so the damn thing wouldn't get hurt, because then Justin would make him go to the vet, and he wanted to go to Babylon tonight.
Brian held it in one hand. He wasn't sure how old the puppy was, but he knew it was very young. Its eyes were puffy, as if they had only recently learned to open, and it appeared smushed like Gus had when he was a newborn. A camera flashed, and he looked up and scowled at Justin's tender expression. "You're not keeping this mutt."
"I know I'm not," Justin said easily, and took another picture.
Brian's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So get it out of here."
"I'm not keeping him," Justin continued, ignoring him. "You are."