It seems like Chris only just manages to settle himself on the bed before a pesky set of paws starts walking all over them both, Mr. Muggles slipping between the two and nosing against Chris's pockets, as though expecting that he's come with some kind of treat. For her part, Claire merely pets him and tries to guide him away, but the Pomeranian continues to wriggle up until he can aim an assault on Chris' face, tongue licking at the tip of his nose.

"God, Mr. Muggles," Claire laughs, picking him up with both hands and pinning him lightly against the mattress. "Stop. Stop. Why don't you go head on over to the kitchen, huh? Maybe someone will have a doggie treat for you. Shoo."

When the dog doesn't leave, Claire sighs, shaking her head before her brow furrows from where she glances over the furball and over at Chris with some confusion. "Uh... no...? I mean, unless we're talking about the Burger King, I could probably make something out of cardboard or sandalwood for him. Why?"