[Freddy answers coolly, not wanting to comment on the rest of this guy's background because as the (former) police it would be his duty to cut that operation down to pieces. Huff.]
Yeah give him back to a Mexican in a Mexican hood.
[He's not saying they all look alike. That's not what Freddy is saying at all. But he is saying it would be hard not knowing what this owner looks like...]
Not right this very second but I could poke around. See what I can find.
[In the mean time keep the mutt. Except why is this not as exciting as he had imagined for a few seconds? No that's a lie. He didn't have time to imagine. He just wanted to save the dog from a bullet or from the ring.
What about the others, Dimmy?
Larry rubs his face and lets the car go quiet. The dog stops pacing and ends up sitting down. Phew.]
He's gotta. I didn't see no tag on him though. And I'm pretty sure that Ray isn't in the business for caring about that. They just called him a son of a bitch.
[Snerk.]
Isn't that everybody though? We should call him something. What about Pedro?
[What smelly breath jesus christ. Freddy does his best to keep the beast from climbing into the front seat. He just thinks of it as keeping a suspect back. Yep...]
[Two can play at that game, old man. Freddy waves his hand.] We're not calling him Son of a Bitch, it don't matter how far down the shitter he came from.
What's dog in Spanish? Big brown dog? That's what you are, right fella? A big brown mutt.
[Pit bull mastiff bulldog something big and mean and kind of drippy. Freddy turns in his seat to look back at the guy, hand reaching out to pat him on his big thick skull. He really is more a Lorenzo than a Fredric.]
Perro is dog. Marron is brown. He's no Senor Marron. Perro maybe. Sorta gets right to the point.
[As a drive he must keep his hands on the wheel. His eyes follow Freddy's motion. The dog's long tail--why is it not cropped? It's usually cropped for a dog like this.--thumps on the seat a few times.]
We gotta call him something, even if he's only going to be with us a short time.
[Gotta drive that home. Only need to have one in the dog house.]
[Waging of the big tail drums out a beat on the upholstery. He likes to be talked to and pat. It's good. ]
For now. He seems okay. I wouldn't have done it if he seemed like a wild animal. This guy couldn't find himself something to eat if his life depended on it, I'm sure.
[Who died and made him a canine expert? That's yet to be seen. Anyway. They've made their journey and here they are at their small, humble home turf.]
You can go on in, I'll make sure he pisses.
[Assumed responsibility means this isn't a big deal, right?]
He's pretty sturdy for a dog who can't find himself something to eat.
[Freddy says, casting doubt on how poorly he might have had it before Ray Rey (Rey Ray?!) got his hands on him. Oof okay. Deal. The kid has no reason to argue the old man's offer. Out of the car he goes, confident Mister Dog will go along with Mister White as planned.]
[Mister Dog tries to climb out with Freddy through the same door. He doesn't go very far. Larry has to reach back and pull on his collar to be sure he stays put.]
You knucklehead.
[Sigh. Right. Get to it, old man. He comes on out and is ready with the leash. He has no ready reply to Freddy. And honestly he was expecting a little more flack. Maybe he is off the hook. Or maybe he's really gonna get it in another way. At any rate, by the time he leads the dog inside he's had a cigarette. Yeah. That long outside.]
[Freddy asks when the dynamic duo re-enter. Look he's had time to take off his shoes and kick back on the sofa to turn on the (primarily Spanish) TV set. God he fucking misses future technology sometimes.]
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