[Never a twinge in that knee, which is saying something for an old bastard like him. He feels a tingle at the monster's glance. Probably his imagination.

Calm and silence seem to radiate from the creature. Blake remembers once when he was a kid, ducking into a church during a storm, with the thunder muffled and the rain tapping on the windows. It's easy to remember that feeling. It's not one he gets real often.

He approaches, uncharacteristically. He tries to joke,] You're not gonna bite me, right?

[He'll find out when he places his hand on the arch of its neck.

I was pretty pissed off at you, back then. You using my dad's voice. I thought you were screwing with me.

[His voice softens as his fingers sink into the fur.] You weren't, were you.