( He sounds... mostly confident. At the end of the day, Rita's hardly a domesticated creature. She just happens to sort of listen to Jack a solid sixty-ish percent of the time. )
But either way, she's not real, so.
( You'll probably be fine.
He's less certain about Rousma, who even knows how that interaction works? One imaginary thing eating another, is that permanent or just as free of consequence as it is for them? Better to not find out, probably, and not let her wander around the dumpster alone.
If Kyle agrees, Jack will lead the pair of them outside and around the building. From the ether, he produces a hefty bag of dog food, which he gives a loud and pointed shake. Along with it, a short doggy whistle, and a call of: )
Rita! C'mere girl! Dinner!
( From beneath the building comes a stirring. A rumbling. Two massive paws bigger than Clydesdale hooves emerge, followed by a sniffing snout — and then bursting from behind the dumpster comes Rita in all her glowing green glory. Nine or ten feet tall were she to stand, two scaly wings folded against her back, practically more dragon than raccoon.
He splits open the dog food bag and dumps a hearty amount directly into a bucket. Rita grabs massive fistfuls in her thumbed paws and begins to shove kibble into her maw, grumbling and growling contentedly. )
Kyle, this is Rita. Rita, this is Kyle. He's good, okay? Kyle is friend, not food.
( If Rita absorbs any of that, she gives absolutely no indication. )
[ He's not sure what he's expecting. He recalls raccoons from old memories. Chores at a shared house. Taking a plastic bag of garbage outside, dragging a trashcan to the street. Getting startled by what at first he assumed was a cat, but turned out to be twice the size. It hissed at him and skittered into the dark.
This is... not a raccoon or a dog.
To be fair, Jack did tell him that...
His eyes have gone a little wide as he shoots a look at Jack, then back to the dragon-raccoon-creature. ]
Nice to meet you, Rita... [ Does she understand English? ]
( Rita lifts her eyes away from the pail of dog food, and levels them at Kyle long enough to let out a slobbery hiss in a way that isn't outright threatening, but also isn't... very pleasant. It could mean anything from if you come near my food I will immediately claw your eyes out to who cares, fuck off to hello.
He has no fucking clue.
Rita goes back to dunking kibble in a nearby puddle and stuffing it into her mouth.
Jack shrugs one shoulder, and offers an optimistic-sounding: )
I think she likes you.
( At the very least, she doesn't dislike him. That... that would be way more obvious. )
[ He doesn't have any particular animal handling skills, so - he's putting his trust in Jack right now with that response.
There's something almost... cute about the way she washes her food. And despite the slobbering, something strangely and horribly beautiful about her wings. The green is much more saturated than he's ever seen, but it faintly reminds him of the tahldi back in Basawar, a coloration that isn't found in furred beasts in Nayeshi that he can recall right now. ]
I'll remember to bring her food next time. [ French fries and bacon. Or whatever these little pellets are. ]
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no subject
( He sounds... mostly confident. At the end of the day, Rita's hardly a domesticated creature. She just happens to sort of listen to Jack a solid sixty-ish percent of the time. )
But either way, she's not real, so.
( You'll probably be fine.
He's less certain about Rousma, who even knows how that interaction works? One imaginary thing eating another, is that permanent or just as free of consequence as it is for them? Better to not find out, probably, and not let her wander around the dumpster alone.
If Kyle agrees, Jack will lead the pair of them outside and around the building. From the ether, he produces a hefty bag of dog food, which he gives a loud and pointed shake. Along with it, a short doggy whistle, and a call of: )
Rita! C'mere girl! Dinner!
( From beneath the building comes a stirring. A rumbling. Two massive paws bigger than Clydesdale hooves emerge, followed by a sniffing snout — and then bursting from behind the dumpster comes Rita in all her glowing green glory. Nine or ten feet tall were she to stand, two scaly wings folded against her back, practically more dragon than raccoon.
He splits open the dog food bag and dumps a hearty amount directly into a bucket. Rita grabs massive fistfuls in her thumbed paws and begins to shove kibble into her maw, grumbling and growling contentedly. )
Kyle, this is Rita. Rita, this is Kyle. He's good, okay? Kyle is friend, not food.
( If Rita absorbs any of that, she gives absolutely no indication. )
no subject
This is... not a raccoon or a dog.
To be fair, Jack did tell him that...
His eyes have gone a little wide as he shoots a look at Jack, then back to the dragon-raccoon-creature. ]
Nice to meet you, Rita... [ Does she understand English? ]
no subject
He has no fucking clue.
Rita goes back to dunking kibble in a nearby puddle and stuffing it into her mouth.
Jack shrugs one shoulder, and offers an optimistic-sounding: )
I think she likes you.
( At the very least, she doesn't dislike him. That... that would be way more obvious. )
no subject
There's something almost... cute about the way she washes her food. And despite the slobbering, something strangely and horribly beautiful about her wings. The green is much more saturated than he's ever seen, but it faintly reminds him of the tahldi back in Basawar, a coloration that isn't found in furred beasts in Nayeshi that he can recall right now. ]
I'll remember to bring her food next time. [ French fries and bacon. Or whatever these little pellets are. ]