"you're not keeping it." slade says immediately, his singular eye sizing up the fluffy canine you had just brought home.

no collar, no leash, no tags. not to mention the ribs visible through layers of fur, his head bowed lowly in obvious submission and the grime that stuck to his coat. the dog was clearly cold, hungry and neglected.

"your puppy dog eyes won't work," slade huffed, his eye narrowing as he shifted his attention back up to your pout, "neither will the mutts."

of course, you wouldn't let him dismiss you and this dog that was clearly in need of help. it was a silent battle; the two of you staring each other down. until, his eye rolled and he slumped further into the chair he was sat at.

"fine. you can bathe him, feed him and— do whatever else you must. but you're rehoming it. end of discussion." arms crossing over his chest, slade's gaze lazily returned to the animal, watching him sniff about the safehouse. "who knows if the thing is vicious. or diseased." his nose wrinkled up in distaste as the canine approached, sniffing around his chair whilst it's tail swayed side to side, "it best not step foot into my room or on the furniture. i don't want it in my way."