MASTER OF THE DREAM.

He flinches — he didn't expect to see Gallagher here. Why isn't he waiting in the usual place?

“An ambush? You fluffy trickster.”

His wings open, appearing from the hair. Like a little stretch.

“Lovely. You really are a good boy. Now give me your paw!”

“Let's see, actually. Sit!”

“Aren't you a good boy~”

Scritch, scritch.

Heh. What a lovely sight.

He lightly scratches his chin too.

Placing a gloved hand over his head. Pat, pat.

@woofgallagher.bsky.social

Come here, puppy.

( Is that truly the reason? Let's hope not, for Robin's sake. )

from the ceiling.

“I do not recall inviting someone else to this meeting. It is utterly rude to intrude like that, have you not been taught that before?”

His tone held no animosity, however, he was simply informing the other.

“Are you alright?”

“..surely, you understa—” He stopped mid sentence with his cup still raised in front of a propped up book, holding it from falling down even if the portrait of a scientist he was talking to was horizontal. Fixing his glasses with the other hand, he focused on the strange individual that just fell

He's repotting it first thing.

( Off he walks, cactus in one hand, a cup of tea still floating behind him. What a view. )

( He picks it up. Seems there's a lot he needs to learn again, a fleeting memory of a once great figure. He isn't sure where he would even go now. )

Goodbye, Gallagher.

a man covering his face with his hand wearing a watch ALT: a man covering his face with his hand wearing a watch

Where did I go wrong...

( Heavy silence of a disappointed parent. )

I think we're done here. Thank you for the... gift.

( He tries to pick up the pot, but his hand goes right through it at first. Tsk. )

( Slightly lifting his brows, his lips get even thinner than before. )

Perhaps you should stay silent then.

You think it's funny? ..Go away, dog.

And what's the idea behind you making dinner for the hound, my boy? Tell me I'm missing something here.

( Fixing his glasses. )

What a bold implication. So it was me, Dreammaster, who made people the way they are, me, who created this psychology you speak of? I made them such and then allowed my boy to deal with this — is that the story your friends in fiction want to write in the annals?

You cannot always hold their hand. Every bird needs to fly away from its parents' nest. I held utmost trust in his ability to figure it out.

Well, that was for my boy to deal with, not for me.

Instead, this heaven was to be bestowed upon everyone, even the sinners. Equality in happiness. I'd say this was even better.

( His lips form a very thin line. )

It's frustrating that none can comprehend what our grand goal was. Such thoughts seemingly can't fit into their small skulls.

Is this not how humanity envisions heavens?

Yes, it does. Yet you still worked to prevent Sunday from fixing it. What a hypocritical dog you are.

Naturally, the inventor and the society in general.

Well, /I/ don't like the tie this way, so of course. Things should be used the proper way, always.

Compliment accepted. Wish I could see you wearing something proper for once. Surely, you no longer need your cover. Why not wear something you like instead?

You no longer need it.

And dark blue pants can be quite fancy, if you ask me.