Re: lakeside mansion; hugh c./dietre a.
Sieglinde answered the sounds from within with a bark of her own, tail already swishing to and fro. She was only about a year and a half old, and thus still had a puppy-like demeanor at times. Dietre had an iron grip on her leash, though it was from nerves more than a desire to keep her in line. When the door was opened, she did not hesitate to jump forward and start sniffing. Sieglinde had never been a timid dog, she was her owner’s opposite in that regard. Everyone was a friend to be made, man or beast.
“Uhm… Yes.” Dietre recognized Hugh too, though they hadn’t interacted during Spamalot’s production. Dietre had kept to himself, quiet and reserved, narrowing his focus to the work at hand rather than being social. Compared to how he looked then, however, it was clear he had been through something. He had lost weight, his jaw and cheekbones sharp, his skin paler than before, his eyes shadowed.
Stepping deeper into the house, Dietre continued to keep a hold on his pup’s leash despite the fact the two dogs seemed amiable toward each other. “...Her name’s Sieglinde,” he answered, voice soft and husky from lack of use. He hadn’t spoken to anyone but doctors, therapists, and nurses for the past few months, so he was rather out of practice.
It wasn’t only his looks that had changed, but the way he carried himself as well. Yes he had been shy and a bit antisocial during Spamalot, but he had some confidence in what he was doing. The Dietre who stood in Hugh’s home now had a melancholy aura of quiet defeat, his movements slow and uncertain. He kept his eyes down, brow furrowed, gaze on the dogs because they were easier for him to look at than the other man. “...Thank you for inviting me.”