Her expression was careful in the way people are careful when they are trying not to insult a man they think is making a terrible mistake.
“Mr. Hayes,” she said, “I respect your service.”
Connor had heard that sentence enough times to know something worse usually came after it.
“But I need you to understand something,” Hannah continued. “This dog is beyond saving.”
Connor looked at the paperwork.
There was a liability waiver.
There was an animal transfer form.
There was a behavioral discharge summary stamped with ODIN — UNSUITABLE FOR STANDARD PLACEMENT.
He signed the first line.
Hannah’s mouth tightened.
“He attacked his last handler,” she said.
Connor signed the second line.
“He has not slept properly in months.”
He signed the third.
“If you remove that muzzle, he will bite you.”
Connor slid the papers back across the desk.
“I understand.”
“No,” Hannah said, and this time her voice lost some of its professional smoothness. “I don’t think you do. He is a lethal weapon with the safety switch broken off.”
