Rorschach bounded through the dog park with an unfiltered enthusiasm, nose to the ground, sniffing everything—and everyone—in his path. His size alone turned heads, but the fact that he was off-leash and apparently unaccompanied drew a few uneasy glances from bystanders.

[Unbeknownst to them, Rorschach’s owner was lounging in their car nearby, casually finishing a cigarette.]

Oblivious to the stares, Rorschach continued his curious patrol until he flopped into the grass and began nibbling on a moss-covered rock, seemingly content. His peace, however, was short-lived—a tennis ball came sailing through the air and smacked him squarely on the head.

"OW!- What the shit-"

Rorschach spoke quietly his demeanor not all that playful as his head darted around for whoever threw the ball