lakeside mansion; hugh c./dietre a.
Sometimes Hugh didn't know how Heart heard or sensed what she did, and he could have sworn the Labrador had a sixth sense when it came to the doorbell. She almost always perked up before the bell rang throughout the house, but in this particular instance because Hugh was expecting guests, he was up and off the sofa at not quite the same speed as the dog, who was headed towards the front door and had given one bark to it, but not far behind her either.
He'd spoken to Dietre a few times now, once long ago when he'd accidentally texted Dietre when he was drunk over Christmas, and then more recently. Perhaps he'd been too caught up in his own nonsense to really keep touch between then, something Hugh determined he was going to do better at. Friends were good, and more friends was better, and if he was to a certain degree distracting himself from the lack of any romantic relationship, at least he was aware of it? It felt as if that might be growth.
He straightened his vest, told Heart to sit (and then reached for her collar, just to be sure), and opened the door. When he saw the man on the other side he offered him a warm smile. "Dietre, I remember you from Spamalot. Come in, this is Heart," he motioned to the dog who was - well trained or no - wiggling her back legs as if she wanted to get up and check out the new arrivals. "And I don't remember if you mentioned your dogs name?"
He stepped back, pulling Heart along with him to allow room for both the dog and the man to enter the house, while allowing Heart to sniff and do the dog thing she needed to do, to get used to them both in her space.