Harry leaned down and fastened the sash around Mouse's neck that identified him as a 'service dog', which seemed to be tolerated with an almost sullen air. Legalities taken care of, Harry strode into the hotel like he owned the place, Mouse walking his dutiful two steps ahead, as if he was really the one leading the show.
The woman behind the desk seemed about to protest, but Harry simply didn't give her the option. He didn't stop walking until he reached the elevator, leaning over to jab the button. It was a risk, he knew, taking the small metal death trap instead of the stairs, but he was pretty sure Thomas wasn't going to be able to wait long enough to take the stairs at his pace.