Chuck is sitting just two seats down the bar. They're keeping a chair in between them, on the off-chance that they both reach for their coffee at the same time or accidentally graze elbows.
Every so often, she'll reach down to touch the top of Digby's head, absently ruffling his ears with one hand as she picks the top of a muffin with the other.
She, too, is curious about discovering who the final culprit is. In a place like Papen County, you tend to hear news pretty quick.
"I'm glad you didn't have to see the state of that body," he tells her, even though he's pretty certain he doesn't have to. She's got a pretty strong stomach on her own.
Digby, meanwhile, cheerfully laps up the attention Chuck gives him.
Maybe death has given her a morbid curiosity. Or it's just the really strong stomach thing. Either way, from what she understood about the condition of the body, it's probably best she wasn't there. "I hope they caught whoever did it," she murmurs. There's always something unsettling about an unsolved murder. Digby gets another affectionate scruff.
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Every so often, she'll reach down to touch the top of Digby's head, absently ruffling his ears with one hand as she picks the top of a muffin with the other.
She, too, is curious about discovering who the final culprit is. In a place like Papen County, you tend to hear news pretty quick.
Easier said than done in a multidimensional bar.
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"I'm glad you didn't have to see the state of that body," he tells her, even though he's pretty certain he doesn't have to. She's got a pretty strong stomach on her own.
Digby, meanwhile, cheerfully laps up the attention Chuck gives him.
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It could probably use a little more sugar. Ah, well.
"I don't know why I assumed Milliways would be exempt from things like murder."
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Anna likes dogs.
"Is he yours?"
(She assumes all dogs are male -- and all cats are female -- because the ones she knows best are.)
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Digby glances up, the chewtoy dropping from his mouth. Permission to pet: granted.
"Yep. His name's Digby," Ned says kindly.
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(What? It's easiest.)
"He's pretty.
"I'm Anna."
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And judging by Digby's enthusiasm, that's very likely.
Digby loves petting.
"Hi Anna, I'm Ned."
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STEALTH STEALTH STEALTH.
... This cat may need to return to Kitty Academy.
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What is this cat up to? he seems to think.
Ned, on the other hand, is still occupied by his coffee.
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It considers stealing Digby's toy, but really, why isolate the first dog in the place not to howl at him? It doesn't seem prudent.
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Digby by nature is a very gentle dog, so stealing things from him would be an utter crime. Really.
But now Digby is a little more than just mildly interested. He straightens slightly, cocking his head.
Is this a game?
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"Hi, Chuck," Ned says.
Digby glances up, probably expecting the other Chuck. But if this one's willing to provide scritches, he can settle.
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"Newspaper from my world," he says, giving it a glance. "Keeping myself informed of the daily events, you know, that sort of thing."
And also looking through some of the suspicious articles Emerson had circled.
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Or maybe it's just watching the chewtoy being worked upon; it may or may not last another few days, depending on how much Digby wants to chew it.
In any case, Digby's canine senses are tingling (it's being around things like murder cases and his master's magic that has honed them).
He raises his head slightly.
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"What is it?" asks his master, glancing downwards.
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