Gaz-Canine Demihuman (Series 2/4)

Fractured sunlight peeked through the worn curtains as dawn broke over the city skyline, soft golden light haloing twitching drooped ears that stirred with the sound of bird song. Long lashes fanned over dark skin before fluttering open, sleepy amber eyes sliding around the small bedroom before closing with a low rumble of protest at the arrival of morning.

“Fuckin’ hell...” Gaz rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes, his head pounding from the headache from hell that gripped his skull. I knew I shouldn’t have had that extra shot of whiskey with that pint. Liquor never agrees with me after so many beers...

His eyes scrunched with a visible wince as a knock on the paint chipped door echoed in the room, a short grumble vibrating in his throat as the shelter coordinator cleared her throat before she began to speak.

“Kyle, I know you had a long night last night, but we have visitations today and possible families coming to adopt fellow demihumans today,” she began gently, and he could hear the loud rustling of papers on a clipboard even through the door. “If you could please get up to help set up tables and rooms for the meet and greets, I would greatly appreciate it. As would your fellow residents here.”

Gaz cracked open one eye, an ear perking before both flattened at the thought of families coming in for visitations. Families. Yeah, right. Where they will come in, see something they like as a toy, play with it for a few years before dumping it once they’re bored of it. Typical humans. They only see demihumans as pets, and even then pets get better treatment than most demis do.

With a quiet grunt of effort, Garrick slowly sat up and let the thin sheet slide down his bare torso, running a hand over his short curly hair and scratching his floppy canine ears. Pushing himself to his feet, he padded over to the closet and dresser to rustle through the contents to grab out a clean pair of jeans and his well worn Henley shirt that stretched over his chest and shoulders. He slid his watch onto his wrist after splashing cold water onto his face and applying a little dash of cologne to mask the lingering scent of the bar he could still smell on his skin, glancing over his appearance before tugging on his trustworthy boots and heading out to begin his day.

It was soon apparent that the presence of families and children was going to grate on his hangover thinned tolerance, even with his usually stoic tolerance of people, there was no disguising his annoyance as children pulled their parents along by their hands with high pitched, chatters of excitement for the possibility of a new family member. It made Gaz’s nose crinkle ever so slightly, even with a warning glance from the shelter coordinator, and his tail slowly tucked against his leg as he dragged chairs back into place after the last meet and greet. He was trying to distract himself and direct his energy somewhere useful-it was the least he could do when the shelter had been his home after his time in the SAS for the last few months, and had been his home for when his family had dumped him as a young pup when he no longer looked like the perfect picture of puppy innocence.

Gaz exhaled slowly through his nose, his ears flattening with lingering bitterness at the memories that still haunted him with nightmares some evenings. The bell above the entryway door chimed as the next round of scheduled visits arrived, and the fresh morning breeze drifted in behind the sound of soft footsteps.

“Welcome to Burrow and Branch, someone will be right with you but in the meantime sign in with that sheet right there-”

Gaz had begun his standard greeting as he wiped down the small wooden table, his back to the entrance, when a warm scent curled around his nostrils and stopped his words. His movements stilled and he turned his head to examine the new group that had walked in, his tail hesitantly easing from between his legs and giving a nervous wag in greeting.