The sand cat remembers seeing Val around -- mostly loitering near Butch -- but she barely remembers his name. That's her problem; she likes to live in her laboratory, spending most of her 'socialization' time teaching Cosette or playing word games with Stryker. Now, though, she smells the rank odor of too much alcohol pluming from the panda German shepherd, rolling off his fur and spewing through the air with every exhale. Normally, the erudite likes to avoid getting to close to anyone bigger than her and likely unstable.

But she supposed this obvious sign of mental health issues meant she needed to step in. Frankly, Ninazu rarely played the part of a councillor or therapist or shrink, whatever you wanted to call it.

"Looks like something's bothering you. Want to talk about it?" she asks, sitting next to him with two of her five tails curled around her paws. She notices the gleam of anger in his eyes, but doesn't want to comment specifically on that. Instead she glances at the whiskey, and wonders how long he's been working on it.

WRITTEN BY AXIOM * TAGS