"I would have been happy with a 'Rolf, come off it, you aren't boring,' you know?" He shook his head and finished his biscuit, brushing the crumbs off his lap. Across the room the dogs were curled up on the floor in the tense, acutely aware sleep that only dogs can achieve. They appeared dead to the world but he knew the moment he patted his leg they'd both rush over for the attention. "Heeey," he muttered softly, scratching their heads when they responded just as expected. "And what does the right amount of boring even mean?"