Through a paranoid side glance, Griff finally saw who he believed he was looking for. Tall guy – really tall actually – in a hat and waving a phone that glowed oddly blue in the red haze of the fire. He changed course and headed towards him, glad to have a destination and something to focus on other than the odd looks being thrown his way.
He didn’t understand a word of what the guy said until a name came out.
“Grufford Rhydderch,” Griff said. He took the offered hand in a firm grip and shook back politely. Well used to the face that most people pulled at his name, Griff was adding the usual, “But Griff for short. Much easier to get your mouth around,” all before the handshake was done.
Looking down at Grimes who, for the record, looked back up at him with a perfect expression of innocence, Griff simply laughed. He reached down and scratched the dog on the head while shrugging at Marcus. “Not my dog. I mean, kind of, but not really.” That hadn’t come out right at all and Griff put it down to the lingering effects of his injuries.
Frowning at himself, Griff simply shook his head and offered Marcus a faint smile. “Let’s try that again. So far he’s only mauled zombies and wash users, so you should be fine.”
As in on cue Grimes moved forward to sniff at Marcus and Griff idly thought that dog’s really had it easy. They didn’t have any of this awkward social interaction and prejudice; they just got on in there and sniffed and then occasional drooled. Maybe Grimes could read his mind became the moment he’d finished smelling the tall stranger, Grimes moved back and sat. Right on Griff’s foot. Griff and Grimes had been through hell together and most of the time they made a well synchronized team. But then sometimes; well, sometimes they fell out of step and as Grimes’ large flank settled on Griff’s foot, Griff knew that they’d totally lost it right now.
“Anyway,” Griff muttered as he tried to pull his foot free, “thanks for the offer of company.”