"Ah," he says, regarding the dog with vague apprehension. It seems to be largely an agreeable enough creature, as far as dogs go. "Thank you."

He is not entirely certain as to whether he is thanking the dog or the vehicle for its induction into his apartment, or why one would thank either such thing, and so he elects to straighten with fluid indifference, one hand exacting a careful pressure to the back of his neck.

"Is there - anything I should - help you with," says Rush, frown darkening in wavering indecision as to his wording and the best course of action with which he should proceed.