cotton, wind, blow, blouse

[canicide]

[ Nill introduced him to the agency, promising him that it wouldn't be a bad experience to just go in and talk to the guy. Apparently he trains some of the dogs himself, which is why there are so few to choose from, but even if it didn't work out on his first visit he'd help him in the long run. With Nill's experience in the field, Heine trusts her word.

That doesn't mean he isn't stressed about it. After years of coping with his problems by himself, asking for help or admitting he needs it at all throws of the precarious routine he maintains most days.

The appointment he makes is later in the morning to avoid crowds on their way to work. When he arrives he's not sure where to go and ends up waiting in the reception area, standing by an empty desk with his hands in his pockets. ]

Comments

[embellishing]

[The idea of training service dogs had first formed, oddly enough, when Eames had been finishing his last legs of military service. He'd talked to so many of his unit mates who were dreading coming home after long stints of being away, of having to adjust back into normalcy. One of them he had been particularly worried about, a guy who took everything to heart and tended to have intense nightmares that no one in the squad would really address.

When Eames had swung by to check up on him, he'd been surprised to see how well-adjusted he was. In his absence, his family had adopted a tiny labrador retriever, and the rest was history.

It was surprisingly easy to start training a service dog, and even easier to get hooked on the feeling of matching a dog to someone who needed them. While Eames' agency was small, it was growing, and he had reluctantly hired a few people to help him find and train service dogs. Ariadne's dogs were always the happiest and Arthur's were the best at taking orders, but Eames liked to think his dogs were a proper balance.

Because the agency was fairly new, he preferred working solely with organizations who would direct people to him, having done all the vetting already. He also preferred word of mouth than advertising, and the small neat website that was set up didn't even list an address or a phone number. Ariadne would say it was because he was too much of a mother hen to give away his 'babies' to just anyone, and she might be right.

Still, even he had to admit that all of the appointments this morning sounded like good candidates for one of his dogs. Depression, blind and PTSD, amputees...]

Good morning. [Eames called as he popped out from his office, before pausing, frowning to glance at his watch.] Or afternoon? Close enough to either. You must be Mr. Rammsteiner.

[canicide]

[ When making the appointment, he'd attached his physician's notes, meaning the guy—Eames, Nill told him—knows almost the entire extent of his conditions. He at least knows how his sight is almost nonexistent after the explosion of a live round near his face, and what his PTSD is sometimes triggered by due to what came before the explosion.

Nill wouldn't have recommended him if he were an asshole. Heine focuses on that when he turns toward the voice. It's more... British than he expected. ]

Yeah. You can call me Heine. Eames?

[embellishing]

That's me.

[Trusting that Heine could follow him since he seemed to be in the lobby alone, without any assistance, he started back towards the offices. His shoes squeaked slightly against the polished floors, and he turned over his shoulder to continue talking.]

Nill gave a rather glowing recommendation for you, but all the same, I figured we could sit down and have a chat so you know what you're getting into. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee, water?

[canicide]

[ In a completely unfamiliar location, Heine unfolds his cane for usage. He follows Eames' voice through the halls. The place seems relatively spacious. He doesn't hear any dogs... yet. ]

Water's fine.

[ When they come to a stop in another room he collapses the cane again to hold, pausing in the doorway. Around people unfamiliar with being unsighted and what level of guiding is appropriate, Heine still feels awkward about asking—but he's also not going to risk hurting himself for the sake of pride. He did enough of that when he was younger. ]

Where's the chair? [ A number of steps to the front, he assumes, and uses his hand to feel out the back of the seat and sit down. ]

Nill told me that it would be... a commitment.

[embellishing]

[Eames ducked down to grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge in the room, setting it down in front of Heine's chair. He hadn't thought about saying where the chair was, a bit embarrassed at his lack of foresight, but it seemed like Heine could navigate just fine. So instead, he decided to get down to the spiel.]

It is. Particularly with service dogs who need to be trained for psychological conditions, it's important for there to be a strong bond between owner and dog. It'll be a year to two years of training, and if at any time you decide to back out of the training, the dog will suffer for it.

[He settled down into his chair, flipping open Heine's file so he could take notes as they talked.]

It's not something to be done lightly, but if you see it through to the end, it's very rewarding.

[Then, just to check in, he asked:]

Thoughts so far?

[canicide]

[ He can hear the sound of something being set down and he thinks it's probably the water. But asking for it or taking it without confirmation opens him up for more, opens him up for negotiations that he's not sure he wants yet.

One year of training, even two, make sense. But is he ready for that? Is any animal ready to put up with his shit? ]

How is it rewarding?

[embellishing]

[That wasn't the first question that Eames was expecting, and he arched a brow slightly as he considered Heine across from him.]

It might sound corny or stupid to say, so bear with me: you have another living being that loves and supports you and is constantly happy to see you. You have another reason to wake up in the morning, care for yourself, and start to like yourself again.

[He paused, shrugging.]

Of course, it's all entirely subjective. But I haven't had any complaints yet.

[canicide]

[ Subjective is one way to look at it. Sentimental is another—at least it seems that way to Heine, right now, hearing Eames' words and thinking about what the process of training the dog, or any dog, might be like. ]

Then how many service dogs have you trained?

[embellishing]

I've trained thirty seven personally so far, but I do have two staff members who each have trained a dozen dogs. We're focused more on quality than quantity.

[That being said, Eames leaned back in his seat, regarding Heine thoughtfully.]

So why do you want a service dog?

[canicide]

[ Thirty-seven with up to two years of training for each one. People must see the point of committing, if he's had that many people go through the process. Heine is thinking when Eames asks him a question of his own. ]

Needing another reason to get up in the morning. [ After the deadpan delivery, Heine admits, ] That's what Nill said. And my therapist suggested it.

[ Though not precisely in those words. ]

[embellishing]

Do you agree with them?

[Because while Nill was a whip smart young lady who could read people in a way that Eames found a little unsettling at times, and while he was sure Heine's therapist was just as educated, at the end of the day, they weren't the ones committing to this.

It wasn't like Eames was hurting for people to train these dogs for, and he wanted to be sure Heine was here because he wanted to be.]

[canicide]

[ Heine's first instinct is to say no, that he doesn't need anyone or anything to help him.

But the truth is different from his instinct to be defensive. Sometimes Heine does need something else to get him up in the mornings. Sometimes it's Nill, or Naoto, or even Badou if he's going to meet them, and sometimes there's nothing and he doesn't get up at all.

He does like dogs.

(He would like being able to function regularly better.) ]

...yeah. [ Heine shrugs, but his voice is firm. ] It would help.

[embellishing]

[It didn't sound like Heine was lying, and considering he hadn't objected to anything he'd said so far, he decided it would be fine to proceed to the next step.]

All right then. We have a few dogs here, if you'd like to get a feel for some of them. I can bring them in here if it's easier, but it is quicker to go in the back and go along the rows of kennels.

Petplay Iyan

[embellishing]

[The thing with Heine was starting to become shockingly regular, because say what you want about Heine's personality, but their interests seemed to align on things more than Cerberus' training and Heine's wellbeing. Case in point, the collar that was sitting starkly on the counter when he came in, sorting through the mail he had collected, most of it rubbish, but he could read through the ones that weren't to Heine at a later date. He set the 'to read' pile on the counter, picking up the collar curiously, heart beat speeding up slightly.

Cerberus' collars were functional, without any real embellishments. This one, however, was far larger and ornate.]

Something you want to tell me?

[He called out, listening for Heine's footsteps.]

clears throat

[canicide]

[ In the kitchen, Heine's been making food, which is mostly just sandwiches. When he hears Eames come in and check through his mail he doesn't really pay attention until he hears a question comes through the doorway.

People should really consider not sending people on registered disability mail that's not in Braille. But he'd opened the package, knowing exactly what he ordered, and left the contents on the counter. Maybe Eames knows the letters printed in Braille on the tag, maybe he doesn't. There's only three of them though. ]

Maybe. [ Heine replies loud enough to be heard, putting one plate to the left of him on the counter. ] Bring it over here.

; )

[embellishing]

[Not having to be told twice, Eames picked it up and headed into the kitchen, poking his head into the doorway to see what Heine was doing. He knew enough Braille to get by, but perhaps his brain was short circuiting at the promise held in his hand, the thought of Heine bending him over and fucking him rough and raw while he was wearing it.]

Here.

[He nudged Heine's left shoulder with it, leaning his hip against the counter as he watched Heine make sandwiches.]

This for you or me?

[canicide]

[ Heine doesn't reach up to take the collar from him, instead cocking his head slightly in acknowledgment as he reaches for the jar of mustard. ]

For me to put on you.

[embellishing]

[The way that Eames' breathing hitched, audibly he was sure, was criminal. He had a feeling that Heine had been slowly but surely training him to become noisier in that regard, a tangible reaction to the effect he had on him. He thumbed over the collar curiously, humming thoughtfully.]

My Braille's a bit rusty. Don't tell me it actually says dog on it.

[canicide]

[ It definitely helps that Eames is learning to be louder, and Heine appreciates it... in his own way. He stops tilting his head and instead finishes up the sandwich he's working on, giving a low hum in response at first. ]

Not exactly.

[ Does he sound smug? A bit. ]

[embellishing]

Then what does it say exactly?

[Since Heine didn't seem like he was going to be more forthcoming, Eames went to stand behind him, slowly settling his hands on Heine's waist to give him time to pull away. If he didn't, he'd be rewarded with Eames nosing into his hair.]

[canicide]

Well... [ Heine raises his arms for Eames to get his own around him, wiping his hand clean on a paper towel before he reaches down to touch the tag on the collar himself. He lets him put his face in his hair, smiling slightly. There's another moment of silence while he runs his thumb over the Braille. ]

Looks like they got it right. [ Finally he gives Eames the answer he's been waiting for: ] It says 'pet'.

[embellishing]

[The suspense killed him a little, but he waited as patiently as possible, pressing a small kiss against the back of Heine's neck as if to help speed up the process. But Heine was as unflappable as always, and he didn't disappoint.]

Seriously? That's not much better than 'dog'.

[Still, the word sent a small shiver down his spine, and he let his hands wander up the front of Heine's shirt.]

When were you thinking of testing it out?

[canicide]

It's more general.

[ In a good mood, Heine allows Eames to touch him, putting the food items away and moving the sandwiches onto two plates. ]

After lunch. I made you one.

[ Staying against the counter, Heine rotates to stand between Eames arms and lean forward for a quick kiss, using his hands to find the line of his jaw first. ]

Put them on the table.

[embellishing]

I don't have the collar on yet, do I still have to follow your instructions?

[It was more a tease than anything, Eames leaning into the kiss before obediently following Heine's orders. He let their shoulders and arms brush more than necessary as he grabbed the plates and took the to the table, snagging a bite out of his sandwich.]

Want anything to drink?

[canicide]

You do if you want lunch.

[ Heine starts to eat after Eames does, licking a crumb from the pad of his thumb somewhat absently. ]

Water.

[ And he's going to know if Eames is moving to get that for him immediately, so... off you go, Eames. ]