Words: 1074
Summary: A boy, his crocadog, and an ottsel. Has a better trio ever graced the Naughty Ottsel's second floor?
Setting: Directly after Jak II and before the start of Jak III
Author's Note: This was a piece I wrote for the Jak and Daxter theme week on Tumblr, which I was having problems posting there. The theme for this day was Crocadog.
Who's a Good Boy?
"So, uh, who's… a good boy?"
The lively tail smacked against the ramshackle boards of the newly refurbished Naughty Ottsel's second floor. A pink tongue languidly laid between the white teeth, jutting back and forth slightly with every pant. The crocadog sat there, optimistically staring up at its owner.
"You… are?"
A tanned hand gingerly closed in, rubbing through mottled brown hair. The crocadog closed its eyes, head tilting so the right spot could be scratched.
"'I guess I'm just good with animals," Daxter said mockingly in the doorway, raising his hands for even more exaggeration as he mouthed the words again. "Where's that bravado now that this thing has peed not once, not twice, but thrice in my bar? Thrice times, babe. That is thrice more than it should have."
The crocadog barred its teeth at the comment tuned against Jak, readying itself for a growl. Daxter had been saying the word 'thrice' whenever he could that day after finding it on one of Krew's old medication bottles, and both others quickly grew tired of the ottsel's vocabulary expansion.
"I am, just not like this."
Fuzzy feet pattered over to the crocadog, who, after finding a paw centered underneath its stout chin, dropped the threatening stance. The scaly body drooped playfully, head raising and shifting with the rubbing.
"Not like this?" Daxter asked, moving his gloved fingers in the crocadog's jowls, throwing the head back and forth. The tongue casually popped back out, being cast along with the movement. "A face not even animal aficionado Jakkie could love? Y'know, I might have'ta call HSPCA an' tell 'em yer treating this guy so cruelly."
"Dax, you know that isn't it."
"He's cryin' crocadog tears over here 'cause you don't love him, big guy." Daxter immediately moved his hands out of the mouth, finding them covered in a thick coat of saliva. "Eeuch, doggy drool."
Plopping over, the crocadog awaited further attention from the ottsel. A yellow, scaled underbelly met saliva-covered gloves, as well as a flurry of rubbing to make sure it all came off. The stumpy leg slowly began to kick through the air, making circles too close to Daxter's head for comfort.
"It isn't mine."
"Why's that? He is yours. Kinda."
Nape skin billowed as the crocadog's head shifted once again, tongue wildly flailing to the other side as it looked up at Jak. Giving its best attempt at a bark, a gruff whine let out.
"I didn't name it."
"Then name it," Daxter sighed, shaking his head. The crocadog's gaze returned to him, foot kicking faster than before as the scratching went closer to the right spot. "Oooh, name it Killer. And it's a guy, trust me. Either he's happy to see me or I've never seen a p—"
"Killer?" Jak interrupted. "Why Killer?"
"A parasite. Sheesh. Thought I was going to be a naughty ottsel in the Naughty Ottsel? And for the record, he's a real lady killer. You should'a seen my cute little lemon gumdrop swoon over him." Daxter began to lull over, forgetting to rub the Crocadog's stomach. "Let me tell you, she'd know it's a boy too 'cause that sure is a p—"
"Croc."
The metal collar scrapped against the floor as the crocadog switched between speakers. A spiked tail slapped contentedly against the floor at hearing the name.
"Croc? Like croc-adog? Real imaginative, buddy." Daxter hit his head, to which the crocadog, decidedly accepting of the name, got up and began to rub his head on Jak's leg. "Forgive me, I must'a forgotten my manners. The name's Ott the ottsel, nice to meet ya. Have you seen my good ol' pal Hu the human? He's about yay tall, is apparently great with animals, and is as creative as a motivational poster in the KG barracks."
"It fits, right?" Jak asked, still trying his best to show Croc a sign of companionship by wading his fingers through the fur between its neck and collar.
"Oh, it fits alright. I think it'll fit just fine. Don't know if there're any girl Crocs out there, but—"
"Then his name is Croc," Jak interrupted again, pushing the ottsel out the door at the last coming second before he could finish the statement. "Now get out."
The door closed shut, and with a click, left the room as barren as usual except for its two current occupants and any bugs Daxter missed during his extermination bout.
"Why are you closing your doors on me, tell why me!" Tiny fists rapped against the door, then moving to jiggle the doorknob. "Really? C'mon Jakkie, you cannot lock me out of my own establishment!"
"Sorry about that… Croc," Jak said, sighing to himself. He was apologizing to an animal that wasn't paying attention to anything that happened, instead sniffing around until he was called. It gave a simple face as an answer, as well as another go at a bark. "You'll be seeing more of him."
Returning to the old, worn-down mattress, Jak rested his head between his hands. All he wanted to do was try and make Croc comfortable, which would make himself comfortable. That wasn't working too well, but it just stared at him, unbothered.
They always said the second time's a charm. "We should start over. Right Croc?"
Croc playfully bowed, jumping forward to give a half-attempt at crawling up Jak's leg. After its owner sat in silence, not knowing how to respond, it gave up trying to get into the lap and began sniffing the area until it came up to a darker splotch on the floor.
"Now," Jak breathed deeply, "who's a good boy?"
Tail wagging and tongue triumphantly sagging out of its mouth, Croc turned and ceremoniously lifted his leg.
"You…" Jak stopped to watch as the splotch became even darker and not unsettling moist, considering that it was likely to have been the cleanest fluid to ever pass through the floor in this room. "…Are?"
What sounded like dishes and glasses dropping and shattering in the room below ebbed in. The giggling was loud enough to be heard clearly, but the frustrated ottsel came through cut. "…swear …. discipline… mark my… Castrated! …thrice times …sure of it…! Hang it… wall!"
Croc came running over to Jak, mouth open wide with a dumb smile. Scratching under the ridges along the scaly body, he smirked, sending its little foot happily smacking. "Yeah, I guess you are."
*HSPCA: Havenic Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals