Derp. D: Crap reply.
The Huxley woman was perplexed with each swing in the girl's mannerisms. She was puzzling, to say the least, and hark perked in slight, remerging to a relaxed position from previous submission. Wander remained docile, however, still submissive as per usual. The dame paused, listening, and testing the air, silently examining this young woman as though scent and sound would let on to her intentions, or perhaps her thought process. It hadn't yet occured to the woman that dear Ataxia may have just been looking for a victim to pester, though Wander had never been one to look for the darkness in stranger's hearts, as noted by the related Pandemic.
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything, Miss Ataxia, she mused gently, remaining soft and gentle in her ways. A slender hand gently touched the sulking lady's back, her touch practically a ghost against that ashen pelt. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?
Empathy, as it seemed, was not a way to approach this girl. Though, even so, the dame wasn't some object, and she was just like any other roaming canine from before, though now forced into a lifestyle of servitude.
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