"I was about to say," she said, grinning at him. "You'd hurt yourself, and then I'd have to carry you around."
She kissed his cheek as they entered the holding room, and was about to say something when Tom barreled towards her. "Hey, dog! Oh goodness, how are you?" She squatted down to rub his head with two hands, a big smile on her face.
Tom sat, accepting the praise easily as Poppy scratched him under the chin. "Good boy, Tom," she said quietly. She checked him for any damage, and when there didn't seem to be any, she stood up, her hand still on his head. Tom hurried over to Francis, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling.
They managed to leave the hospital with little paperwork - Poppy only had to sign a couple of forms - and they were quickly outside again. Poppy shifted uncomfortably as they stood, and turned to him. "Do you want me to call a taxi?" she asked. "My apartment really isn't that far. We could walk."
She paused, and then looked down at Tom. "Nah," she said. "Let's walk. I don't think taxis can take dogs."
"This way," she said, taking his hand and going off to the left. She weaved through the streets assuredly, as if she had made the trek many times before. "We should call Phos when we get back," she said absently. "I miss him."
