Casually, John laid his plate on the floor and called Bear with a whistle. The animal came running and was already enthusiastically devouring pieces of meat when a menacing figure appeared in the doorway.
"Mr. Reese" Finch exclaimed indignantly. "You know very well that Bear can't eat this things. I don't buy a balanced ration of $ 600.00 a pound specific for Belgian Malinois males of that age and level of physical activity just for you to give Chinese takeout for him under the table!"
He came to pick up the plate, knowing that Bear was too well trained and too fond of him to hurt him or even oppose it, but John gently pulled him closer to himself with one hand on his waist, knowing he would have to follow the movement of his arm not to lose balance.
"Finch," he began with a charming smirk, "there's nothing wrong with letting our baby enjoy the finer things in life. Have you ever eaten dog food? I wouldn't recommend.".
Embarrassed by the violation of his personal space, Finch hesitated for a moment before answering. "Most of the spices used in Chinese cuisine are lethal to dogs and you are...".
John let go and stood up to leave. "You can make the dish, if you want to."
Finch blinked in confusion for a moment, until he noticed that Bear had finished eating and was watching Reese to the elevator. The doors were almost closed when John took a piece of jerky from his pocket and handed it to Bear, smiling cheekily to Finch.
"I saw that!" he shouted. But as soon as the doors closed he allowed himself a little smile. At some point he had stopped to only survive and had returned to living, and those two were an important part of that.