Chapter 1

Minho Kim groaned and looked at his bedside clock. He had to be up early to make that meeting with his agent and this was the fourth time he had been awakened by the sound of barking and whimpering coming from upstairs in the past two hours. He heard a feline growl from the corner of the room. "Don't look at me, Achilles." He grumbled.

The dog must be massive because its bark was deep and menacing and could be easily heard over the howling of the wind outside. He heaved himself out of bed, grumbling about irresponsible pet owners and stumbled to the bathroom. He quickly found the bottle of sleeping pills in his highly organized medicine cabinet and tossed one back with a cup of water from the sink. A mere hour later he was finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

...

Around 10:00 that morning, Thomas Mitchel woke slowly, scrubbing his face with the palm of his hand in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. He tried to sit up but couldn't. He looked down at the big mound of fur resting on his chest.

"Get off you jerk." He grumbled and pushed ineffectively at the mound. Thomas's Saint Bernard lifted his head and looked at his owner blearily. "Get off, Patroclus." Thomas said a bit more insistently and shoved again.

With a soft woof, Patroclus clambered over Thomas and landed with a loud thump on the floor. He trotted over to his food bowl and sat, waiting patiently.

Thomas shuffled to the kitchen and started his coffee. He pulled the dog food out from underneath the sink and dumped a generous portion into Pat's bowl, then headed to get his paper from the hallway. It wasn't until he stood, paper in hand that he saw the note. He pulled it off the door and walked back to the kitchen staring at it.

It wasn't so much a note as a drawing. It featured a man lying in bed with a pillow clamped around his head while a vicious looking dog barked and drooled above him. Neat handwriting below it read "Muzzle your hell beast!"

Thomas snorted into his coffee and looked over at Pat. "Hell beast, my ass." He grumbled.

His dog, who had spent the entire night crying because he was terrified of the storm, was currently sitting with his snout resting on the counter, begging Thomas for a treat.

"You kept me up most of the night and you made my neighbor mad at me." He said, earning a mournful look from Pat. "You aren't getting anything." He grumbled and headed in the direction of the bathroom. "Try not to destroy anything while I shower, will you?" he tossed over his shoulder.

….

Minho straightened his tie as he waited for his publisher to see him. He had used an entirely different style for this bid and he was anxious to find out what they thought. Finally he saw the tall, skinny Englishman round the corner.

"Minho, mate!" he shouted as Minho stood. "Have you been out here this whole time?" he asked, shaking Minho's hand.

"I wasn't waiting long, sir." Minho said.

"How many times have I told you to call me Newt?"

"Of course." He said. He wasn't sure how to take Newton Glade sometimes. "Newt." He added as an afterthought. He followed the other man into his office and they sat down.

"Look, mate," Newt began. "What you sent us is great stuff. I mean it."

Minho felt himself tense for the worst.

"But the author…wants to go in a different direction."

And there it was.

"Newt, that is the third author you've tried to pair me with that has decided to go in a different direction." He said, frustrated. "I'm starting to think Nate the Spy was a fluke."

"Nate the Spy was a hit." Newt said with a wave of a hand. "It was the biggest selling children's book in the country., But, Minho…I just haven't seen that caliber of work from you since." He said,. his face had softened with pity and Minho cringed, knowing what was coming. "Maybe you jumped into work to soon after…"

Minho scowled and cut him off. "You have no right." He said his voice low. "Just because you happened to be there when everything happened doesn't mean you have a right to talk about it. You're my agent not my life coach." And with that, he stormed out of the office, tossing a perfunctory "I'll call you later." Over his shoulder as he went.

He spotted the note on his door going down the hallway. He snatched it off, walking in without looking at it. It wasn't until after he had grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down that he looked down at the crumpled piece of notebook paper. On it, someone had drawn a picture of a large window, rain lashing at the panes and a streak of lightning in the distance. Huddled in the corner was a man with a large, fluffy dog, who had a tear running down its furry cheek. The caption read "Patroclus has storm anxiety, be kind."

Minho snorted. It was a pretty great drawing, he admitted to himself. The artist, presumably his upstairs neighbor, had even included shading to indicate shadows in the room. And his dog was named Patroclus. He stood and went to his desk to make another doodle to send to his neighbor.

Thomas almost didn't hear the phone ring. He had stuck in his headphones and his music was blaring loudly. He grabbed the phone mid-ring. "Hello?" he said, his voice gruff.

"Working again, brother?" came the reply.

"Oh, hey, Teresa." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was working."

"You're always working." She complained.

"Well, it's a weekly book, Sis."

"Well, you're coming to lunch with me, no excuses. I have news." Teresa said.

"Fine." Thomas said with a grin. "Fry's, in 20 minutes?"

"See you there!" she squealed and hung up without saying goodbye.

Thomas shook his head and went in search of his shoes.

Twenty minutes later he was drinking a coke in a tiny diner a few blocks from his apartment. Teresa came sweeping in only a few minutes later. She pushed her oversized sunglasses on top of her head as she sat down.

"Hey, little sister." He said as she took a sip of his coke without a word.

"Hey!" she said brightly. "How's life?" she asked.

"You're staling and I'm going to let you…for now." He said. "Life is good. " he said, snatching his glass back and leaning back in the booth. "The others and I make a great team, and this new issue has seen a jump in pre-orders. We very well might land a spot on the Wickd Comics panel at SDCC next year." He said with a grin.

"Thomas, that's amazing." She said just as the waitress approached.

"Can I get, y'all anything else," the girl asked, order book in hand.

"A cheese omelet, a side of bacon, and a coke, please." Teresa said.

"Chef salad, no egg, dressing on the side." Thomas said, smiling at her.

"Alright, I have that right out for you." The waitress said with a wink.

"You eat like a rabbit." Teresa said and tossed a straw wrapper at him.

"I'm having a Coke." He protested, waving the glass in front of her face.

"You only have Coke when I'm around." She countered.

"What's your news?" Thomas.

Teresa straightened and pressed her palms to the table top. "You remember Aris?" she asked, staring at her hands instead of looking at him.

"Yeah…" Thomas said cautiously, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Well…."she said then looked up smiling and plunged one hand into her coat pocket, pulling it out with a smile diamond ring on her finger. "I'm getting married!"

Thomas's eyes widened. "Oh, my god, T, that's great!" he said, getting up from the booth and coming around to wrap her in a huge hug. It was then that the waitress came back with their food.

He grinned at the other woman. "My baby sister is getting married." He said.

"Well congratulations." The waitress said with a warm smile.

They chatted happily for the rest of their meal and Thomas gave her one last hug before he headed back to his apartment.

He saw another note stuck to his door and snatched it up eagerly. He was ashamed to admit that he had kind of been looking forward to it. This one featured a large cat whose eyes seemed to glow on the page, scrawled underneath was "Achilles approves of your dog's name. Truce?" Thomas grinned and went to answer before he got back to work.