"I dunno. It's kinda funny looking."

 "Oh, Bongo's just got a cute little mutation. Don'tchya boy?"

Cerberus, who is accustomed to hearing 33 different toungues¹, cannot comprehend this one. But if he could understand the question, he would not be inclined to dignify it with reply.

"He's just a fuzzy one. Yes he is. Yes he is."

The big-haired one scrunches her face into a menacing growl.» and her voice rises about 400hZ as she says this. He returns a growl» to his captor with one head while sniffing the newcomer for agression with another. His middle head is scanning the chamber, as always, looking for possible escape routes. It is a useless effort. There hadn't been enough time to bolt for the door when this new one arrived, and now the shackles are on him.

"Okay, I'll tell you what. I'll walk him, but I'll have to charge you for all three leashes. How about that."

"Sure. We just have tons and tons of money, don't we precious? You've got a deal, Sarah."

There was a time when this situation would have posed no obstacle to Cerberus. He would have simply doused everything in hellfire and torn his way through a burning wall. But since being driven from his domain seventy years ago, Cerberus has been feeling less and less virile. In a pinch, he can dribble some low flame onto a pile of dry wood leaves to keep himself warm in winter, but any kind of wrath is beyond his abilities these days.