Homelander looked over at Luna as he noticed the car in her maw. “Now, what have you got there…?” He took the card gently and looked it over. His features twitched as did the corners of his mouth. He still wasn’t used to receiving gifts. It was something he’d gone most of his life without.

However, it was evident how appreciated Luna’s card was. Homelander’s gaze read it over at least 4 times before he looked back at Luna, a lump in his throat. “This uh…is lovely. Thank you, young lady.”

He set the card aside as he reached out and carefully pulled Luna into his arms. He was always so gentle and loving with her. He held her close, nuzzling against her fur. “I love you, my sweet little lady.” He was aware she didn’t appreciate the term little, however it was said with complete affection, his steady pulse proof.

Much smaller claws than usual scrabble about on the floor until a black and white loaf of a dog is sat by Silco’s ankle, peering up at him a bit skeptically. But there seems to be a delivery clutched in the little beast’s teeth.

Those aren't the sounds of the dog he's used to...

Curious, Silco leans forward in his chair to get a look, and that is far from the dog that usually comes around. And because he doesn't know this dog, he reaches a hand out with caution for a sniff.

"Hello."

There's that familiar, telltale sound of paws(and their claws) skittering across the floor. When the small pup slams into his shin, his first concern is whether or not the Corgi is alright -- but that happy little "smile" assures him that she's fine.

He kneels down to pick the box up. Before anything else, his guest receives ear scritches and head ruffles, and a murmur of, "Good girl." She's always a welcome patron at the bar, after all.

With a light, fond laugh, the box is lifted and placed on the bar counter, where it's carefully opened.

The bark gets her attention, but the scrabbling claws have her on alert - until she turns and sees the fluffy puffball making a straight line towards her.

(From Tibet)

The dog has clearly spoken; Silco is not leaving the sofa anytime soon. He doesn't mind much. He always runs cold and he could use a break from the everyday stresses of his particular lot in life.

Beneath the dog's weight, hefty as it is, and nearly buried within the fur, the kingpin shifts a little, making himself a little more comfortable.

Once settled, his hand buries into the fur of the mane, fingers scratching lightly.

Yes, this is nice. He could fall asleep like this.

Homelander had just finished talking with Ashley when he felt that impact against his boot. He glanced down, blinking and tilting his head as he eyed the little dog. “And just who are you, hm? How the hell did you get in here?” He mused.

Never will he begin to wonder less how it is this dog always seems to know when he most needs her.

Or most wants her, because sometimes Silco enjoys nothing more than burying his fingers in the thick fur while he reads through the latest fraudulent shipping manifests and sips his drink.

After she licks his cheek, his fingers find her head to scratch behind one ear.