"Okay, hold on..." Nate was on his knees, wiping dust from Dogmeat's goggles with the red bandana wrapped on the dog's neck. The debris of Boston's ruins has dirtied it quite a bit, but not as much as allowing the dog to roll around in the grass, blades of it all over his fur. Dogmeat licked Nate's face in appreciation as he placed the goggles back on Dogmeat's face, adjusting the strap and petting him on the head. "You've gotta stop rolling around in the dirt so much. Who knows how much water is left in these reserves!"
Dogmeat didn't seem to mind much, running off as Nate stood back up with a grunt, straightening his back. No matter how fit he was, all those centuries in the freezer were going to catch up to him sooner or later! He turned to catch up with Dogmeat, who was barking at some lawyer-type, tail wagging. It seemed like he'd found some food, although it's quite obvious someone was in the middle of eating it. Nate came over, tugging the bandana lightly to encourage Dogmeat to step back and away from the hotdog-- and the person holding it, who seemed like all he wanted was a peaceful midday meal to himself.
"I'm sorry, he's just really into sausages and stuff..." Dogmeat's ears flattened, his eyes shining behind the goggles. "Uh, this is Dogmeat. He's not my dog, he's like, his own man or something like that. Can I make it up to you?"
