|Scene Title||The Daily Padfoot>|
|Synopsis||Rene, Padfoot. Padfoot, Rene.|
|Date||July 14, 1994|
|Watch For||Irish wolfhounds are gigantic dogs.|
The hustle and bustle of Euston Road continues on towards the west where it turns into a major interchange. The British Library and Elizabeth Garrett Anderson Hospital are located towards this end of Euston Road. Just to the south is the Salvation Army Heritage Centre and Coram's Fields.
Evening is approaching fast over London as a certain black dog slinks away from the direction of Grimmauld Square. He's not going to venture too far, just enough to snag a paper, a snippet of news while he's here. Then it's back to collect Beaky, then back to hiding to the north. He's only here briefly to pick up a few things while an unwanted distraction was provided for him a few days prior.
It is this same time that Rene is making his way back to the inn where he had come to London; where a pinch of Floo powder is waiting for his return. While he came to the city with his father for the trips to Diagon Alley, the boy has been increasingly bold in exploring London for himself with the blessing of his old man. Perhaps Vivien thought it best to allow him some freedom in exchange for having dislocated the boy from Home. The little figure is out of place walking alone, a summer cloak around his shoulders and a full bag slung around his torso to be perched on his thigh. The open top shows off a couple of books, and the end of today's Daily Prophet poking from the opening. Even in the dusky light, the moving pictures and boldly inked wizard headlines are hard to miss if one has seen them before.
Out amongst the muggle population, the large black dog remains alert, nothing more than a stray avoiding the pound, or cruel treatment at the hands of strangers. This is possibly stupid of him to be out like this, but the facts are facts. The Ministry isn't looking for one Sirius Black here in London. They're still searching the area of the Cup, or other destinations. Crouching amongst some dustbins, he pokes his muzzle into one of the cans, poking about for some scrap of information.
Doot-doo-doo… Rene is minding his own mental business up until he spies a black… thing poking around in a garbage can just inside the corner of the alley up ahead. Perhaps it is his own natural curiosity that does not allow him to stop walking until he gets to the mouth of said by-way, blue eyes open and observing the dog from around the brick corner. A hungry dog. A hungry dog that also happens to be able to stare him in the eyes without so much as sitting there. Rene's hair puffs up around his neck as a small buffet of warm breeze passes him by, causing a flicker of contrast noticable even for a critter that sees in black and white.
The black dog looks up from rustling around in the trash, meeting the boy eye for eye. Parents, sheesh, stop letting your kids wander.. oh hey.. newspaper and it's the Prophet. The dog gets out of the dustbin and trots over to Rene, tail giving a wag as he sniffs in interest. There are no threatening barks or growls, just friendly sniffing hellos.
When faced with an natural enemy, little people are inclined to tense up like rabbits. Rene is no different- so when the dog turns towards him the blond widens his eyes and takes a step away, only to be greeted by a wagging tail and sniffing. Maybe he has rabies? Or maybe he is just a nice dog. As if to test this theory since the dog is already in his bubble, Rene holds out a tiny hand so that Padfoot can sniff his fingers, which are equally miniature. "Chien gentil. Vous n'avez pas mme un collier…?" It seems bizarre that such a big, friendly pooch would not have an owner.
Padfoot is his own owner! Never having learned French as a language, he has no clue as to what the kid is saying. So just acts like a dog, and sniffs at the offered fingers. Keeping his tale wagging, the pale eyed black dog eyes over the kid, the bag and debates just swiping the paper and running off.
Confident that if the dog hasn't attacked him yet, it won't if he pats it on the head- which he promptly does. "Vous voulez de la nourriture? Foods?" Rene is hazarding guesses to Padfoot's being in the dustbins, and so tucks a hand down into his bag to pull out what is left of a sandwich from his lunch earlier. Yes, No? At least the little guy is offering, right?
Padfoot's tail wags, and is enough to probably knock over small people and furniture. The offering of food is passed over as he nudges his muzzle at the paper. It can probably be interpreted as, 'It's playtime, yes?'
"Oh vous voulez jouer? Chien etrange." This dog is weird! Passing over a sandwich. Rene tentatively tucks that back down, and pulls out the paper instead. The cover, of course, has a picture of Padfoot's human self on it, which Rene peers down at for a moment. There are other cover stories, but most of them are about more evil things, plus Rita Skeeter's bit article on Tonks' involvement at the Cup. "Cela Sirius Black. L'attraperont-ils jamais cet homme?" The blond lets out an almost mocking little giggle. He doubts that the English Ministry is competent in catching its own criminals- which must be true, seeing as Sirius is still on the run(and standing here).
The dog looks at the paper, and reserves his anger for later. His ears perk upwards slightly, and it doesn't take someone knowing French to guess at what the little boy seems to be saying. Hmm… the dog will be taking the paper thank you! In a quick move, he snaps at the paper in hopefully what's more of a playful manner. Snap, grab and if he's got a hold of it, he's going to take off running with it.
Even if he wanted to, Rene could not dream of holding onto that paper once Padfoot takes it in his mouth. So as a result the boy is left behind with his hands on his hips and a glare after the dog's exit. What a strange creature- but Rene has seen more bizarre things. "Je ne l'ai pas jete!" He didn't even get to throw it! Oh well. Not getting eaten was a good enough day for him.