[Okay well Camille is not a monster. She is not going to try the dog first. She just has hesitations. She's loathe to open up something new, so. Has she got any scabs?
Or wait.]
Hang on. Sorry, pooch.
[She brings her thumb to her teeth and digs into the newborn hangnail. A few days without Aveeno and her hands are cracking under the pressure. The skin comes away and the blood wells up.
[ Unfortunately, it does not open. The box seems to give off the vibes of "I don't want this one". What a picky thing. Pickles stares at this box as if it's the cause of everything that's going wrong right now and bats at it with a paw. ]
Okay. Uh...can you understand me? [She fucking hates this.] It needs blood to open. It's your box so it doesn't want mine. Do you...Jesus.
[She presses a hand to her head. How the hell is she going to pull this off? Her heart's in her gut and still it beats like it's firing machine gun shells. If it's just a regular dog after all, she's scum. Even if it isn't, she's scum.
[ He sees her expressions and simply holds out his paw to her calmly. Pickles is aware that he could hurt himself, but that would probably cause more bleeding than he wants. ]
[Well. There you have it. Probably sentient, probably a person. It had its own post on the bulletin.
Camille's throat still swells shut and her eyes water. Her expression may have tensed up but it's reddening.]
I'll make it quick.
[She blows out a breath and sniffles, then pats around for the sharpest rock she can find. There's one with a jagged edge, fresh broken. She turns it over in hand and contemplates the best move.
Paw would get infected. Most of the body was obscured by fur. Back of the ear, maybe?]
Hold still, okay?
[She leans forward, petting him lightly over the head before she gently bows it down. Camille points the business end down and makes a swift, shallow swipe behind the base of his left ear. She's had practice at this, even if the rock's blunter than she's used to.]
[ Pickles remains surprisingly calm, though he does tense up when the injury is made. He has this big urge to shake, but he holds it for now. He has to stay still. ]
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[Okay well Camille is not a monster. She is not going to try the dog first. She just has hesitations. She's loathe to open up something new, so. Has she got any scabs?
Or wait.]
Hang on. Sorry, pooch.
[She brings her thumb to her teeth and digs into the newborn hangnail. A few days without Aveeno and her hands are cracking under the pressure. The skin comes away and the blood wells up.
She smears it on the box. Does it open?]
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Okay. Uh...can you understand me? [She fucking hates this.] It needs blood to open. It's your box so it doesn't want mine. Do you...Jesus.
[She presses a hand to her head. How the hell is she going to pull this off? Her heart's in her gut and still it beats like it's firing machine gun shells. If it's just a regular dog after all, she's scum. Even if it isn't, she's scum.
There's no winning.]
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[ He sees her expressions and simply holds out his paw to her calmly. Pickles is aware that he could hurt himself, but that would probably cause more bleeding than he wants. ]
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Camille's throat still swells shut and her eyes water. Her expression may have tensed up but it's reddening.]
I'll make it quick.
[She blows out a breath and sniffles, then pats around for the sharpest rock she can find. There's one with a jagged edge, fresh broken. She turns it over in hand and contemplates the best move.
Paw would get infected. Most of the body was obscured by fur. Back of the ear, maybe?]
Hold still, okay?
[She leans forward, petting him lightly over the head before she gently bows it down. Camille points the business end down and makes a swift, shallow swipe behind the base of his left ear. She's had practice at this, even if the rock's blunter than she's used to.]
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Thank you, thank. Good boy.
[Camille is quick to collect the blood, touching fingertips to the wound with cautious gentility. She then swipes it on the box.
It clicks and pops open. There's an odd device within, but hey, if it belongs to the dog it belongs to the dog.
Camille flips her hair out of her face and works to fit it onto the little guy.]
There we are. [She sniffles, still not quite free from the prickle of possible tears.] All spruced up. You good now?
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[ The device speaks in a robotic voice:
The puppy thanks you for your assistance and would like to repay the favor in a future date. ]
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Then the tears really do come. Silent, in a single drop per eye, but they're finally real.
Camille swipes at them with the heel of one palm, then reaches to scratch the uninjured ear.]
Hey, no problem. [She laughs a little. This is fucked. This is so fucked up.] I'd say "anytime" but god, I sure hope not.
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