⁽⁽ ᑫᵘᵉᵉᶰ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗᶦᵒᶰ ⁾

undoubtedly evident is barely restrained apprehension upon   a feminine countenance. although their fur is quite charming as it boasts hues that are reminiscent of an autumn breeze, she cannot help but feel less than merry upon encountering one of the rather peculiar creatures within her stately kitchen. 

       dodger had no intention of acting as if he didn’t own the place. he, much like georgette ( only to a much lighter degree ), had confidence to spare, and if there was a couch in his sight, he would not hesitate to lounge upon it. it was in his nature. it seemed that georgette’s nature involved being despicably in love with herself despite her constant surly disposition. he would think that putting a mirror in front of her as she spoke to other animals might help her see how ugly she was on the inside if she did not so often stare at the outside. she would never see past all that make up. what did a dog need make up for anyway?

       “hey, cool it princess— i ain’t trying t’get my paws on you. an’ it isn’t like i was planning to push you in a gutter. i just thought you might like t’stretch your legs, is all. a walk can’t do anything but help a show dog out, you know.”

     although it is not as if the supercilious canine can sincerely state that she is NOT pleased by his apparent unwillingness to deliberately demonstrate ill intentions whilst in her presence, the right corner of her upper lip instinctively curls in response to the misunderstanding that seems to have arisen. as it customarily is, her vocal tone is best described as unabashedly condescending. 

Brief intro & STARTER CALL. 

        “nice t’see you, too, princess,” dodger greeted, propped lazily up on the couch. he’d come to see oliver, but since he’d come alone and the kitten was sleeping, he thought he might take himself a nice nap while he waited. the house was warm and the couch here was softer than his bed back home with fagin. none of this was something he admitted to, however. instead he stood, legs stretching and tail wagging leisurely in the air as he slipped onto the carpet that decorated the shiny floor.

       “why don’t you an’ me go for a walk, huh? i don’t think i’ve ever seen ya outside unless it was on your balcony, beggin’ for attention.”

                as valorous as he has undeniably proven himself to be by rescuing the youthful feline in question, the unfavorable presumption that his seemingly uncomfortable lifestyle constantly exposes him to uncleanliness causes her to be appalled by the otherwise tranquil sight of the male lounging upon a costly couch. perhaps her disposition would be SLIGHTLY more sunny if he were to courteously refrain from behaving as if he practically owned the picturesque estate. seeing as difficulty is quickly found in erasing the unnerving scene from her mind even after his paws touch the carpet, it can only be assumed that such a hypothesis is incorrect. though a facial expression conveying her displeasure is now attached to her countenance, a curt laugh manages to escape after a preposterous notion is presented to her. 

❝ and put my bath to waste? i don't think so. the idea is completely ABSURD.

❝ You must be here to visit the FLEABAG.     Instead of staying for a short while, why     not take him out for a WALK? I'm sure     he's just been dying to leave. ❞