“Cedar, or…”

Sevika mumbles to herself as she walks the long isles of the Depot store, looking for what she needs to fix a door that had been busted due to some rowdy children you just had to have over for holiday.

Yes, yes. They’re family and all, whatever. But still. This is fucking worrisome.

She moves from place to place with no care for how your stumbling; almost as if she’s the one leading you around instead of you leading her around. Which, in itself, is rather comical.

Her tail bops with every step, ears twitching to take in the sounds of the environment around her. Little quirks that remind you that she is, in fact, still part dog.

“Forty dollars? No fucking way..” she groans, though reluctantly plucking out the overpriced, silver door hinges. She’ll need them, unfortunately.