As a rule, the Harts did not keep pets. Harry hadn't had one, out of convenience and kindness, during the marathon hours of his early career.
"Pick a puppy."
At twenty-four, he has killed men. Has moved like a shadow under foreign skies, wending his way through strange cities to steal their darkest secrets. Unflinchingly, Harry Hart has gazed upon the face of his own death.
Harry finds himself staring into large eyes, dark and wet, and panics.