Blustering a sigh, the cause of his friend's excited dog clearly lost, Kira can only wordlessly take the offered hand by its wrist and let himself be helped upright. He's as muddy as the sheets, and he takes a fortifying breath against the squelch of his body loosing from it.

Most days he appreciates the distraction of her, and the way she fills a hole in Casey's side.

Some days he remembers why he's always preferred cats.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, bending once he's upright to help gather the sheets. He aims a mutinous stair beyond Jake to the dogs, watching Aurora roll into the same mud to be inspected by the snuffling muzzle of her larger friend. Every one and every thing is getting a bath tonight, he decides, wishing their little bungalows came with hoses attached to the outside. "I didn't know she was following along, she's like--a dog-toddler as far as I know. I can wash those for you, I have to do laundry now anyway."