... Day One …
"Thank you for taking him with you, Mr. Reese."
"No problem, Finch. But you're really early. Thought I'd already have these here before you showed up…" Reese replies, stepping into the library chamber with Bear crowding his heels. At his signal, the dog races past to greet the older man sitting at the computer station and he smiles fondly as Finch offers Bear one of several treats placed next to the keyboard awaiting the dog's arrival back.
"Anything from the Machine yet?" Reese asks, setting his recent purchases of tea and donuts on the desk.
"Not yet. But as you noted, it's still early." Finch hands the dog another biscuit, all the while crooning "Yeess…you're such a good boy..." Bear responds by politely accepting the small treat and licking the human's hands. Leave no crumb behind…that's his motto!
Reese watches the pair stare devotedly into each other's eyes. And he'd worried that his boss wouldn't take to the dog! Ha! They've become bona fid members of a mutual admiration society. He leaves the pair to their schmoozing and proceeds to the back of the chamber where a small alcove serves as a snack and coffee station.
With no hot plate available for his old stove-top coffee pot, he had months ago purchased another coffee maker: an old fashioned percolator that brought back memories of years past and turned out a perfect cup of coffee every time. There were of course countless different, more sophisticated coffee machines available, as Finch had been quick to point out…but the former agent had always enjoyed listening to the off-beat cadence of a percolator as it dripped the brew into its lower chamber. And the self-contained stainless steel appliance offers another plus, taking up very little room on the small alcove table - right next to the microwave.
But he'd missed his coffee tunes this morning; Finch had started the brew while waiting for his employee to come back with the tea and donuts, a generous gesture he acknowledges, since his boss never drinks coffee. Reese grabs his favorite mug, and deciding that the old stain at the bottom will be sufficiently sanitized by the hot brew, pours himself a cup and makes his way back to the main chamber where Finch is still inspecting the contents of the donut box.
"So…did I get your favorite?" Reese asks, idly caressing Bear's ears as the dog leans into him.
"Mr. Reese, there is no way we're going to eat all these donuts…!" Finch responds. "All you need to do is remember…"
"…that you have a different 'favorite' depending on the day of the week," Reese shakes his head, "Too much trouble Finch. It's easier just to get them all, with a few extra chocolate ones for me. And we can always give the extras to Bear…" He starts to reach for the donut box.
"No we can not!" Finch replies adamantly, holding the box out of reach. "Donuts are not good for him!"
"Hmmm. And yet we eat them…" Reese takes a sip of the coffee, makes a face and stares into the brew. "Finch? How many scoops did you use?"
"Six. Like always."
Reese smacks his lips with obvious distaste. "It tastes like motor oil…"
"And you can identify that taste because…?" Finch replies, then without waiting for an answer, sighs. "When was the last time you cleaned that pot?"
"Cleaned? I've rinsed it…"
"Well then, all I can offer you is coffee, tea and sympathy."
…
After having unsuccessfully convinced Glasses Man to give him a tasty from that glorious smelling box, Bear sits silently and watches the exchange between the humans. He keeps his ears perked and lets the sound of their speech flow over him, paying particular attention to his Alpha's voice: he never gets tired of that soothing whisper! And of course there is always the possibility that his favorite words will be spoken: ball, walk, out, treat, ride…
But the Alpha is looking into the cup with the same expression he uses with the word "foei!". The cup, which normally seems to please the Tall Man, is not in favor this morning, being somehow different from normal. Which he could have told the Leader if he could communicate in Human: it doesn't smell the same; it has the scent of a metal monster…
But Alpha seems upset. And he doesn't like it when the Leader is upset. It is the cup's fault! That is not good, and he must do something about it. He trots to the file cabinet to retrieve the tennis ball from its hidey-hole. Bringing the ball forward, he nudges the Alphas hand with it.
Throw it, Alpha.
I'll bring it back and we can have a game and you will feel better.
That is a bad cup.
But this is a good ball.
Throw it…!
... Day Two ...
"Morning Finch…"
"Mr. Reese? I really hadn't expected you in this early, considering how late our Number was finally resolved last night…or rather this morning!"
The ex-op enters the chamber, signaling Bear permission to go around him and greet the computer genius. He watches as the two go through the morning meet-n-greet, which consists primarily of Bear accepting the offered treats as fast as Finch presents them, while the older man croons his approval.
Reese yawns. "Yeah, well, Bear needed to go out, and once I was up..." The sentence trails off and he rubs his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion. "Good thing no one saw him; the Condo Association would issue me a hefty fine if they knew I'd allowed a dog into their building."
He places the customary tea and donuts on the computer desk.
"Well, take it out of petty cash if that happens…" Finch replies absently, already deep into his online research.
Their Number last night had predictably attempted to skip out of town with his ill-gotten cache, but unfortunately for the dealer, Reese and Finch had been staked out across the street: the ex-op folded into the small can of a car surveilling the perps house, while Finch and Bear snored in unison, sleeping on the miniscule seats of the too small compact.
A quick chase prevented their catch from escaping, and then with some judiciously applied force, their criminal was zip-tied ready for delivery to the NYPD. He and Finch had waited only long enough for Carter et al to arrive and then they were off, though by that time it was well into the wee hours of the morning. Finch left Bear with him at the condo, citing the need to take care of a personal matter, while the ex-op dropped into the large bed for a few hours of well deserved sleep, the dog comfortably pressing up against his back.
And what he needs now is a strong cup of coffee!
Making his way back to the alcove, he sniffs the air, hoping for that lovely pick-me-up fragrance that would verify Finch has already fixed him a pot of the brew. Nope, nothing. Well, after all, it's not his boss's drink of choice …
But then he comes to a halt, staring at the apparatus that now takes up the space – and more – of his percolator pot. Shiny black with chrome accents, he knows what this is…and groans inwardly.
"So, what do you think? Once I moved some of the boxes around it fit in there nicely." Finch said, coming to stand behind Reese. "I was able to pick it up this morning at the warehouse…thanks to a little palm crossing persuasion." He moves around his employee. "Look, here are all the little premeasured K-cups" he says, pointing to a box shoved under the table. "All kinds of bean types and flavors. And you just put…"
" I know how it works Finch." Reese interrupts. "I just don't know why you bought one."
Finch levels his best "duh" expression on his employee, and with overly sarcastic patience explains,
"Because…Mr. Reese…you refuse to clean out your percolator pot. And even if you are immune to drinking liquid ash, the odor from that old pot is…is awful! Like burned acorns!" He looks meaningfully at Bear, now sitting patiently at his side. "I'm sure that it must really bother Bear, since dogs are so much more sensitive to scents than we are."
Reese doesn't respond to the obviously manipulative comment, but tips his head in acknowledgement. His boss is simply trying to address a problem that could have been prevented had he cleaned out the old pot more thoroughly. So he stands silently, watching as Finch demonstrates the intricacies of the Keruig, choosing a French Roast K-cup…testimony that he's aware his employee prefers strong coffee.
"Now, pull up the lever, put in the K-cup, pull down the lever and push this…and everything is done for you!" The machine grumbles and grinds a few times, and then with a gurgle proceeds to fill the waiting mug to the brim with French Roast brew.
"Voilà!" says Finch proudly, intently watching his employees reaction.
Reese reaches for the cup and aware that his boss is waiting expectantly, takes a small sip. "Not bad, Finch. Not quite as strong as I like, but it's a good flavor." He hopes his poker face is in place.
Finch is silent for a few seconds, staring at Reese who is doing his best to look appreciative. Then, "Told you…" And his boss limps back to the computer station, leaving the ex-op with his coffee and his dog.
Reese glances at the canine sitting patiently in front of him, now holding a ragged tennis ball between his teeth. He sighs. "I like my old coffee maker better, Bear," he tells the dog and reaches down with his free hand to accept the ball. "But Harold seems so proud of this contraption…"
….
Bear responds to the whispered comments with his best doggie smile, or at least as much of a smile that a mouth full of tennis ball will allow. The Alpha is talking directly to him now, and that is always a pleasure. He listens intently for some magic words, but evidently that is not to be. So he just tilts his head, and lets that soft voice soothe him, then places the ball in the Alpha's outstretched hand.
Their play time lasts far too short and after tossing the ball a few times, the Alpha returns to the main chamber. Bear looks hesitantly at his Leaders retreating back, then swivels and stares at the funny machine. No. Not the machine. His nose is telling him something else. Under the table on which the machine sits. On the floor…a box of tasties! It must have fallen off the table when this new thing arrived. A whole box, just laying there.
He knows that taking food from a table is a foei...but surely anything on the floor is fair game? He will take this to his hidey-hole behind the file cabinet where it will be safe with the ball. Then later he will explore this wonderful treasure…
... Day Three …
"Good Morning, Mr. Reese."
"Morning, Finch." Reese hangs up his coat, places a cup and box of donuts on the table, and waits until Bear completes his morning greeting. That protocol consists primarily of the ex-op getting down on one knee and allowing the dog to show his fealty by licking the tall mans chin. Experience had shown him that skipping this step caused the dog some anxiety and the animal would crowd him until the deed was done.
"Anything from the Machine yet?" He finally is able to rise and opens the donut box.
"Nothing so far." Finch replies, reaching for the tea. "More donuts? We've still half a box from yesterday, and some from the day before."
Reese grins. " Ah, but these are fresh…" he says, choosing one of his favorites. He bites into the chocolate, savoring the way the still warm filling melts in his mouth, and on his fingers. "Still don't want to give the stale ones to Bear? He'll be happy to take them off your hands."
"And get sick from eating them!" Finch responds. "Those are not on his diet…" His words drift after Reese as the ex-op heads to the rear of the library for his coffee.
A minute later, "Finch…!"
The older man sighs, and reluctantly leaves his computer. No good deed goes unpunished he thinks, as he heads to the alcove where Reese stands holding a mug in one hand, the half-eaten donut in the other.
"What happened to your fancy coffee machine, Finch? Not that I'm complaining, but you seemed rather attached to it." He gestures toward the table with his donut. In place of the Keurig is once more the old percolator, merrily babbling its song to its audience. But this time the odor of the freshly brewed coffee is…freshly brewed coffee, and not machine oil or burned acorns.
"Oh…I decided it really did take up too much room. I donated it to the Womens Shelter in the next block; the ladies were ecstatic." He shrugs nonchalantly and reaches over the pot to rearrange the selection of Pop Tarts and other snacks. "That percolator makes perfectly good coffee once I cleaned it properly."
He gives the last chip bag a pat and without another glance at his employee, limps back to his computer station.
Reese stills and breathes in the rich aroma of the percolated coffee as he listens to the pot burble its syncopated beat. And silently thanks Harold for being so in tune with his employee's 'sensitivities'…
Again.
…
Bear checks the area under the table once more. Nothing there. He watched closely when Glasses Man started touching all those other tasties. Would more be dropped to the floor? Unfortunately no…but he still has his special food cache. Well hidden.
And later, when the humans were busy elsewhere, he will visit his hidey-hole and have a delicious snack!
...