A large man in a highway patrol uniform approached the booth with the confident stride of someone used to being obeyed without question. His name tag read Sergeant Travis Pike, and his mirrored sunglasses remained on his face despite the dim light inside.
He stopped beside the table and looked down.
“You can’t have that dog in here,” he said flatly.
The old man lowered his mug.
“He’s a retired service animal,” he replied calmly. “He’ll stay under the table.”
Pike snorted.
“Doesn’t matter. Health regulations.”
Ranger did not move.
The second officer standing behind Pike—a younger man named Officer Colin Briggs—shifted uneasily.
“He’s not bothering anyone,” the old man said. “We’ll be finished soon.”
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