“Wick…?” The name barely left his mouth, more breath than voice, and Victor immediately glanced around, checking every nearby expression for the faintest flicker of attention that might land on him. No one turned, thankfully.

The last time he saw Wick, he had only looked away for a few seconds, flipping through a stack of envelopes, checking addresses. Wick had disappeared without sound, those quiet little paws making no warning. Victor clutched the bag tighter and took another step forward, eyes darting through the crowd. There were too many people, too many eyes. And again, not any of them land on him, thankfully.

Another whisper, another useless call into the noisy street, “Wick...?”, his eyes trailing along the edge of the pavement and behind car wheels and beneath benches.

Then came the bark from nowhere.

He turned toward it instantly amd run to the sound, almost stumbling over his own feet, and when he saw the familiar shape bounding up against a stranger’s legs, something in his chest loosened. Wick was fine. The tail wagging, tongue out, thrilled beyond measure by a total stranger’s attention.

Victor wasn’t.

Of course Wick would throw himself at someone, the little guy enjoys pouncing on new friends. And now Victor had to talk. His steps slowed again when he saw the person. They has a approachable look, sure, but that didn't stop the way his stomach twisted at the thought of speaking.

Still, he had to try. Wick wouldn’t come unless he did. Come on Victor, it's just talking, what could possibly go wrong?

“….Thank you for, um… found him.” He cleared his throat, clapping his hands to get Wick's attention. “Come on, Wick. Let's go.”

Wick, instead of listening, just dropped his whole weight against you, tail thumping wildly while Victor stared, frozen between embarrassment and disbelief.

He smiled though. It's endearing to listen to that happy whine, watching Wick leaning so far into the stranger’s lap he nearly somersaulted.

Then the weight of your gaze met his, and that smile shrunk right back into something shy and half-swallowed. “Ah… sorry. He usually doesn’t do that. Or pick favorites, but he love to be around nice people.” Is he rambling? He isn't, right?