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[my_six_hearts]

[The Weighted Companion Cube-dog is sitting on the Winchester Saloon steps, as usual.

It is thinking...about its new world, its new body, all of the new experiences included in the past week.

It is deep in motionless and unblinking thought...and does not understand nor notice the storm that is coming.

Beside it, its journal--which somehow found its

Comments

[encryptedlock]

[in a concerned voice]

You must take shelter form the storm.

[my_six_hearts]

[the dog doesn't move, you can only assume that its paying attention. Soundlessly, words type across the journal page.]

Storm. Vaguely familiar.
I believe its changing this place.

I do not know how to take shelter away from it.

[encryptedlock]

[Worried AI is worried.]

You need to seek low ground and stay away from glass.

[my_six_hearts]

[clueless Cube-dog is clueless]

I need to seek?

I think this involves movement.
Low ground. Glass.

I do not know why I should seek them.

[The Weighted Companion Cube's capacity to comprehend and follow directions is still only slightly better than that of an inanimate object]

[whatclothes]

[man, why did he have to wait so long before getting moving? stupid butchery...]

[he pauses in the middle of the street as he notices a dog on the saloon steps; as far as he knows, animals shouldn't be in the town unless they belong to somebody, right?]

Hey there little guy. [he's... taking off his shirt as he approaches]

[my_six_hearts]

[the dog does not move nor blink, but its ears twitch at the sound. Beside it, words appear on the journal page.]

Everyone is moving around quickly. Something is happening.

Like a party.
Waiting for something to happen.

[whatclothes]

You're a... pretty stupid dog, huh?

[you know what Gray doesn't notice? the journal... so he's just going to go ahead and pick you up, Cubie, because he figures whoever owns you doesn't want you to get blown away with the storm]

Come on, I'll take you to shelter. Maybe somebody there'll recognize you.

[my_six_hearts]

[understandable. Dog's usually don't have journals, after all.]

Oh, he's picking me u-- [the journal stops dictating, as the Weighted Companion Cube-dog is taken out of 'range']

[like any good inanimate object, the dog lets itself be picked up easily, and just goes along with it. Like it forgets that it even has the capacity to move on its own. Which, is basically exactly what's going on.]

((ooc: if you want to take Cubie to another thread or something, let me know and I'll follow. If not, I'll just assume it was taken to safety somewhere.))