Umbra. [Carefully, with a mix of stiff and hesitant, Crowe hunches down into a crouch, offering a hand for a sniff or shake or whatever other trick this dog might know.] Pleasure's mine.
[If permitted by said pup she will pet and scratch between his ears and stand again. There is a faint uncomfortable shift.]
When you say he's "Luna's", you mean the princess, don't you?
[He's already got the door open and- well, if the surprise weren't written all over her face, the gentle fizzing in the air ought to do nicely.]
no subject
[If permitted by said pup she will pet and scratch between his ears and stand again. There is a faint uncomfortable shift.]
When you say he's "Luna's", you mean the princess, don't you?
[He's already got the door open and- well, if the surprise weren't written all over her face, the gentle fizzing in the air ought to do nicely.]
Uh, thanks.