"Has she been doing better," he asks, the hand set behind him at the tree finally drops from its steadying position, and he carries closer in to Jake as he speaks. "I don't know, it just feels like--"

she needs a friend, he doesn't get to say. A dark figure comes bounding through the trees, all excited barks and a thick head hitting him in the backs of the knees. Kira trips forward, grabs the edge of the wash-bin as the only available lifeline and still lands in the dirt, the sheets falling over him to muffle his protests as Aurora bounds over him to bark at and inspect the other dog.

He hadn't realized she'd followed him from the house, but he should have known--she doesn't seem to have any preference for Casey over him, and likely only picked up his trails because any dog would prefer the smell of food over ash.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he sighs more than shouts, fighting his way free of the sheets. Tousled hair and narrowed eyes lifting over the soiled folds, he finds Aurora bouncing on her young, clumsy paws and dipping her head, clearly trying to get the new dog to play. "Aurora, stop," he calls, to little response.