Tim wondered just why it was that Terry was holding a one sided conversation with a dog. But then again, it wasn’t so strange, was it? Terry didn’t know who Tim was right now, and wasn’t Septimus himself guilty of chatting to his dragons as though they understood him completely? Of course, they did understand him completely, so that was beside the point, but even so.
Paws firmly pressed against Terry’s chest, Tim squirmed a bit, twisted some so that he could look down at his desk which was, surprisingly, completely perfect again. All the papers, all the letters from the Ministry complaining about his ‘theft of one of their most valued workers’ were back where they belonged, though Tim’s responses to these letters telling them in polite, political terms where they could shove their letters had already been sent off. He was thankful for that at least because Terry really didn’t need to see it.
He snorted again when Terry asked him who his master was because clearly it was Ella. He may not have put his collar on before he’d changed this time the way he usually did, but everyone knew that Ella was in charge of the puppy whenever he ran off from human responsibilities. And then there was the mention of food and if he didn’t look and act like the most excited thing on the planet in that moment, then he didn’t know what else he could do. Sniffing Terry’s face meant he had to be up close with him, given how flat his nose and face were, and it was curiosity now, actually, but things were a lot more simple when he was like this. Not everything had some great divine reason. Just some things.