The door opens from Milliways onto the tumbletown ruins of what used to be an industrial area on the fringes of Arlington. The temperature is summertime-warm, the air dry; the last rains to pass through here are long since gone. Overhead, a scavenger bird or two circles, visible only to people who know what they're looking for. A breeze listlessly
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"I suppose we'll know it's time to move when the screaming starts," she murmurs.
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(Ellen has no real concept of pets, and is not entirely clear on the comprehension gap that exists between humans and animals. Dogmeat should, by her reckoning, understand all of English if he understands some.)
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If her ears don't deceive her, the dog should be right over here...
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Doesn't smell too good, either.
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"Easy, boy," Annabelle says quietly. Moving in to grab its muzzle and hold it shut.
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It's thrashing pretty hard, though, and trying to claw at Annabelle's arms to get her to let go.
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She knows a bit about dogs. It's not so much about what you say with words as what your tone of voice and body say. Right now, her body language is saying 'I am dominant, you will submit.'
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(Dogmeat is currently looking disgruntled. Ellen in power armor outmasses him by a really amazing amount.)
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"I think we're good now, Ellen. So long as Dogmeat doesn't attack this fellow, anyway."
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There's a tent up ahead with its back to their location. Ellen thinks for a moment, then gestures silently at the canvas. Peek under it or slice it open?
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At her gesture, Annabelle makes a motion that suggests 'peek under it'. That will be less obvious if anyone comes along behind them later.
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