Will Graham considered stray dogs to be kindred spirits. They had been abandoned by humanity because they did not fit into what was "normal" or "desirable" by the mainstream. His dogs were the one that were not cute anymore or had belonged to people who considered animals as disposable. He had been mocked, ostracized, and attacked because he saw too much of what dwelled in dark places. It was such an unfair thing. If people ever bothered to really see they would've seen a man who would go to bed hungry so a trembling dog would have a full stomach. If people truly cared to see, they would've seen a dog who gave the best good morning kisses and other who would nuzzle your bad day away. When he found a shaggy young dog with a bloody muzzle and heavy chains along the road home, he did not hesitate to stop and lend a helping hand.
The young dog was barely out of puppyhood. He had shaggy pitch black fur that would look stunning when washed and brushed. Will thought that he hailed as a wolf-hybrid or one of the breeds designed to look as such. Big, icy blue eyes stared up with an unnatural intelligence. Blood was still wet around his nose, mouth, and muzzle in general.
"Don't be afraid," Will whispered. "I am a friend. I got some chicken if you want it." He held out the meat he had intended to eat for lunch. Sadly, Jack made him look at a fresh mangled corpse five minutes before his schedules lunch break. The bastard then had the nerve to mention he was going to a nice French restaurant with Bella.
Tentatively, the not really a pup grabbed the morsel and scarfed it down. His gaze asked for more.
"If you hop in the back, I'll get you a nice bath and a really good dinner." Will coaxed. "I also have plenty of doggy friends around the house."
With powerful legs the wolfish dog jumped into Will's car. The shaggy tail began to wag a million miles per hour as Will started the engine and continued the journey home. "I think I'll call you Finn." The profiler stated.
The FBI instructor was unaware that a pale waif in black leather stood in the shadows. Vibrant green eyes tracked the vehicle as it pulled away. Loki the Liesmith and the Disgraceful Son of Two Kings had risked life and limb to rescue his son from an unjustifiable punishment. He no longer had a clear idea of what he wanted after his fall from the Bifrost and his narrow escape from Thanos, but he definitely wanted to see his children released from bondage wrought by a god-king who certainly did not of their best interests in mind. Fenrir agreed completely but he first wanted to rip out Odin's throat. It took a lot of tummy rubs to get the pup to agree to lay low on Midgard. For the time being, he would trust this distant descendent of Heimdell with his shape-shifter son. Loki just hoped Fenrir would have the good sense to stay his current size till he could come up with a better plan.