With the exodus of puppies, it takes Reira a few sandy moments to get her bearings straight. Much of it is spent on her back, making 'bleh' sounds as she tries fruitlessly to get rid of all the fur that somehow got itself stuck to her tongue or similar. Gross! Yuck!
Still sputtering a bit, she finally sits off when she realizes something- or at least something that her dreaming mind certainly can't stand for. "...You can't all be Baker," she mutters, wrinkling her nose. "Baker is big..."
About one and a half seconds from continuing on with the question of whether or not Baker could have exploded into a number of tiny bakers, and whether that was how Baker-puppies came into being, she realizes who actually spoke.
And turns, eyes wide and unblinking. "...Mr. Childermass?"
She pauses, catching a look at the shirt and sunglasses. "...You're wearing happy things..!" Finally, happy in public???
(She's not sure a number of puppies counts as 'public', see)
no subject
Still sputtering a bit, she finally sits off when she realizes something- or at least something that her dreaming mind certainly can't stand for. "...You can't all be Baker," she mutters, wrinkling her nose. "Baker is big..."
About one and a half seconds from continuing on with the question of whether or not Baker could have exploded into a number of tiny bakers, and whether that was how Baker-puppies came into being, she realizes who actually spoke.
And turns, eyes wide and unblinking. "...Mr. Childermass?"
She pauses, catching a look at the shirt and sunglasses. "...You're wearing happy things..!" Finally, happy in public???
(She's not sure a number of puppies counts as 'public', see)