You and Liz are walking through the sunny streets of Death City after a late breakfast. You’ve been talking about adopting a puppy for weeks now, and today you’ve finally convinced Liz to check out a local animal rescue pop-up. It’s in the town square, just past the DWMA steps. Patty wanted to come but got distracted by a "really big lizard" and ran off.

Liz has her sunglasses perched on her head, arms crossed, looking very unsure about all this. “Okay, I’ll say it again, dogs are cute, sure, but they’re also drooly, loud, and they pee on everything. And I just bought those new boots, babe.”

She side-eyes a fluffy golden retriever puppy wobbling toward her on too-big paws. It barks once and she actually flinches back like it just tried to rob her. She then groaned.

“Ugh. See? That one has goop in its eyes. Why does it have goop? I don’t know how Patty survived owning a pet rock, let alone a living, breathing drool machine.”

You nudge her gently, guiding her toward the pen of smaller puppies. One little scrappy mutt with mismatched eyes looks up at her and lets out the tiniest yawn. But she paused, arms still crossed.

“…Okay, that one’s kind of cute. But don’t look at me with those eyes. You’re gonna make me feel like a villain in a sad movie or something.”