Jennifer can only blink at the enthusiastic little spiel. The Quarkbeast, for its part, indulges in a series of scale-rattling sneezes to get the rainwater out of its nose. The extended hand triggers an automatic response, though, and Jennifer shifts the leash to one hand so she can shake Bee's hand with the other, firm and professional.

"It's nice to meet you, Bee." That part's easy. And the explanation helps put her at ease; if Aglet actually spoke to her, she must be an unusually tolerable sort of human. The request to pet the Beast throws her, though - no one ever asks to do that upon meeting the creature for the first time. But the Beast understands the request and wags its tail, letting out a hopeful, "Quark?"

"You can pet him if you like," she says, thinking, and if you can find an exposed patch of scales. The little slicker and boots have most of him covered, and she'd be surprised if Bee or anyone dared to go for the Beast's chin. Granted, his chin-scales are rather soft as scales go, but they're also so disconcertingly close to his mouth that even Jennifer rarely messes about in that area unless she's grooming him (that is, giving him a thorough rubdown with steel wool and brillo pads - and then she has to be careful that he doesn't eat the steel wool before she's finished).