Welcome to Gaia! ::

He inclined his head slightly to a side when she suddenly stopped talking, her expression and apparent want to occupy her hands hinting that the next leg of the story was less than pleasant. Well, it was Galactic, after all, and he had a rough idea or two as to why she would be averted to continued.

Wait a minute. Galactic. Lucretia. Amalthea. Another name fell into place, shaped to fit the puzzle perfectly.

"Do you..." He paused, rested a hand on his mouth, and thought for a moment, brow burrowed. When he spoke again, his volume was as gentle as possible, despite all of the horrible alarms blaring in his head. "Does the name Dactyl mean anything to you?"

To say the shift in her expression was subtle would have been a terrible lie, and all of sudden the picture was complete, as if that single piece had revealed the entirety of the puzzle's contents. It was an image that Lucas would have preferred not to see.

He moved instinctively, encompassing her smaller frame with his arms and drawing her into a hug, his height bringing his chin to rest on the top of her head. Fetch tumbled unceremoniously from Claire's lap as he did so, blinking dazedly but otherwise unfazed; it was long past puppy bedtimes. Though Lucas's movements were born of sympathy, kindness, and protection, his expression was anything but.

"I'll kill him." Claire would be unable to see, but his eyes were narrowed to venomous slits. "I would have killed him before. Damn it. He's a dead man."

Lucas remained still save for the hand that idly rubbed Claire's back, though she might have noticed another presence at her side as Fetch nuzzled at her arm, curious as to why his comfy bed was making water now.

"Don't cry." His gaze remained seething and his teeth increasingly clenched. "I'll go back to Galactic and I'll kill him. There's nothing to worry about." At the moment he uttered the words, he was completely serious. He didn't care if he was killed on sight. Even if he was shot full of holes, he wouldn't stop until that man was dead.

"I will," he returned. Though Claire wouldn't see it in her current position, his face betrayed his confidence as an assassin for the first time in ages. Even though Lucas himself was unaware that he had held such a position, his training and his resolve emerged on his features very clearly. "Loose lips sink ships. He didn't know when to shut up. Higher-ups forbade me to go anywhere near him, knowing what I'd do. Damn them all. They can kill me if they want, but not before I kill him."

Fetch's tail waved slightly at the contact, and he licked at Claire's sleeve when her hand moved away. Eugh, sleeve. Gross.

Hand didn't taste like sleeve. Fetch had learned this. Sleeve was bad, but hand was good. He raised his muzzle to lick at the underside of Claire's wrist when her hand returned to his head.

What, did she think he would repeat it? Hell no. No amount of money in the world could force those quotes past Lucas's lips. "I had no idea who you were and it was already my life's mission to wring the neck that gave voice to those words." A vague hint was all he would lower himself to say.

Fetch attempted to follow her hand as it was pulled away, stumbling awkwardly into Claire. Why was he so short? Or, more importantly, why was his bed so tall? How was he supposed to lick such a faraway thing? He pawed expectantly at the woman.

Lucas was relieved to see the resolve in her expression, but his outrage persisted nonetheless. "No, they didn't. They didn't tell me where he was transferred either, so I assumed they were trying to cover his a** before I skinned it."

Fetch climbed into the offered lap and gave a little hop, planting his paws on either of Claire's shoulders and snuffling about her neck and hair. He would eventually rest his chin on one of his paws - and, by property of association, on her shoulder - and bury his nose in her hair. He wanted to perch on her shoulder. But it was smaller than him. Investigation was necessary.

"...I wish you had come to me." He didn't know what commander Claire had approached with the problem or why she had chosen that one specifically, but if she had come to the elite instead, that would have involved him directly and he would have had all liberty to absolutely slaughter the offending grunt. There was nothing could be done about what had already happened, though, and so he could only sigh. He noticed her discomfort, her frown, her hesitation... and also her distinct resolve. "Don't feel obligated to tell me anything you don't want to say."

Lucas listened with a straight face that betrayed no intention. When she finished speaking, he stood.

"I'll be right back."

He turned to start down the hall, the Growlithe removing his face from Claire's now-tangled hair to stare curiously after his human.