Rosie 2: Departed

Rosie walked through the street, panting and hungry.

She didn’t know how far she’d gone, how long it had been since she left the house and the memories she’d made there—both the good, a long time ago, and those more recent. She’d never strayed so far from her home in her previous life, the one she could never return to with each new street she passed.

For a long time, no matter how far she walked, houses like hers still lined both sides of each road. The surroundings were comfortable and familiar and made it easier to search for food; there was even a small chance she’d find those who’d left her, that Julie would be waiting just around the next corner, at the end of the next street. Yet, she never was, and with this familiarity came memories of searching these areas for food with Sanders.

Leaving him had been the hardest thing Rosie had done, harder even than leaving the place her Julie would eventually return to. They’d find her at some point, she knew. Sanders wouldn’t find her anymore, and though all she needed to find him was to return home where he waited and slept, she knew there was no reason to.

Every time she caught the scent of something edible only to find an open window out of reach or an opening too small, she remembered Sanders’ agility, his lithe, springy step that would easily find them food when she had no access. Sometimes Rosie would sit and look up at an inaccessible entry point and whine, hoping Sanders would hear and run past her to jump into the house, as he used to. But Sanders never came, and Rosie would spend some time—perhaps too long—lying at the window, exhausted. She was alone and hungrier than she’d ever been.

Still, she managed to rifle through garbage bins, or find the rare home that hadn’t been locked and closed for her to search, always finding just the right amount of food at the right time to keep her moving. Sometimes she’d have to deal with others like her or Sanders competing for the same meal or already having laid claim to an area. Rosie always backed down from opponents, in no mood nor physical shape for a fight. The worst she’d had to do was flee from the particularly upset ones to avoid any serious threat, and she planned to keep it that way.

As the days of walking and hunting, the nights sleeping in whatever shelter she could find—beneath trees with dense leaves, in a pile of unwanted trash, hovels never meant for a living animal—passed, Rosie’s surroundings slowly changed. The houses grew to multiple floors, towering over her; the yards and gardens vanished, only a sliver of concrete to separate the buildings from the roads; the streets would narrow and widen, never staying the same size for long, white lines painted all over their confusing surfaces.

She remembered visiting this place a long time ago only once or twice, from the safety of her Julie’s big moving box, Rosie never walking here herself. It had been daunting back then. Hundreds of people like Julie walking up and down and across the concrete, and just as many big moving boxes stopping and starting and turning on the roads. Most building interiors, only separated from the outside by huge windows, were full of even more people, and those that weren’t were still illuminated with signs and displays brighter than anything she was used to, even at night.

Just like home, however, things here had changed.

There were no more people, not a sign of activity beyond her own or few others like her. No more big moving boxes—though they were still plentiful, they were all covered in dirt and dust, not having moved for some time. Some had doors hanging open, allowing Rosie to search the interiors, going against her training to never rummage through them, but always coming up empty.

No more lights beamed through building windows, no more products or displays or signs to suggest activity happening inside. At one point, again ignoring her training, Rosie walked into the middle of the street and stopped, holding her panting breaths to listen. The cacophony she expected—footsteps and traffic and hints of nature buried beneath the dense urban chatter—was gone. Rosie heard nothing but wind, the rare song of a small, flying animal here and there, even rarer something crumbling and decaying and giving way in the distance resulting in brief, loud bursts that disappeared as quickly as they came.

Though this busy, dense, vertical place offered no hope of finding her—or any—people, it did at least come with more opportunities. There were several more places to search for food much closer together. Few provided simple access for Rosie, but those that did had much more to scavenge through than anything back home. Some were small spaces lined with shelves holding hundreds of products, more than Rosie had ever seen. Others were rooms filled with tables and chairs, the scent of food drawing her to the rears of buildings where boxes were stacked with edible contents.

Each time she found one of these abundant oases, she’d sniff through to determine what she could eat, sometimes having to tear through packaging or carefully nudge open a door or lid or hatch, to feast, sleep, and watch the world grow dark as the sun disappeared, in no rush to leave before she needed to.

She no longer worried when she’d next eat, nor where to find a safe, comfortable place to sleep, surrounded by stocks that felt like they would last indefinitely. Her life returned to something like what she remembered, before Julie had left, despite still being alone. She was grateful she’d pushed through the suffering, felt the empty pain in her stomach but forced herself to keep moving, to find this dense, once bustling place, and couldn’t imagine herself ever leaving again.

In her newfound paradise, Rosie only lacked one thing. She’d been lonely since leaving Sanders, but now that pain was worse than ever without anyone to share her spoils with.

Despite the setback, there was little else she could desire. She’d only needed to move twice between locations. Once was out of necessity, exhausting as much of the edible food she’d found over a few days, and afterwards, she felt her weight satisfyingly returned as she searched for a new haven along the roads and concrete paths. The second time she moved was out of boredom, only a single food source in the next place that wasn’t particularly interesting to smell or taste. Back home, with Sanders, something like this would’ve been impossible to pass up, but here, she figured she could easily find something better.

Later, her instinct to move on was proven correct; her stomach twisted and growled after only a small sample of the strange food, eventually forcing its way back up her throat, thankfully providing the relief to keep moving.

A certain, familiar scent caught her that same day, guiding her to the source. The only entrance to the building was a long row of steel and glass doors, and following the scent, Rosie nudged through one hanging loosely open to get inside.

The huge open space was lined with rows of shelves shooting off straight ahead, forming wide aisles all lined with various bags and boxes and cans and packets. It seemed Rosie could spend the rest of her life here without ever exhausting all the stock. The comforting smell that had lead her here was overpowering, but something above the rest took her to the far end of one aisle, passing bags with pictures of ones like her or Sanders or even others smaller and less recognisable.

A huge bag of food was laying on the floor, torn open to leak its dried contents. The smell was intoxicating, even as Rosie nudged open the bag to see only a small amount of pebbles left inside. She’d only been able to isolate the scent as it was one embedded in her memory; her food, the exact food she’d been given by her people, by Julie, so long ago she’d almost forgotten the taste. Taking a small mouthful, the memories came flooding back, a better time when she hadn’t been alone, when she’d had Julie and Sanders and all the others. Rosie whined, remembering, and lay down next to the bag, staring at it, as if waiting for Julie to turn the corner and tell her off for eating the food without permission, her appetite quickly fading.

Rosie dreamed, the food bag filling her subconscious with nostalgia; of Julie, walking through green; of Sanders, huddling against her for warmth; of the low groan of rain tapping against the house, playing in puddles when she was finally allowed outside; of the deep grumble of Julie’s big moving box, always taking her somewhere fun and exciting.

The deep grumble grew and grew, louder and coming in small bursts. The moving box never normally made sounds like this.

Rosie woke. Past the food bag, another like her watched, its four legs straight, front shoulders raised, head lowered. It growled through bared teeth at Rosie, lip trembling and eyes intent. It was as big as her, maybe even a little bigger, and its coat black and dark brown blended in with the darkness. In comparison, Rosie’s golden fur stuck out like a beacon.

Carefully, Rosie got to her feet, not wanting to alarm the other with fast movements. He—she could intuit his gender from the scent—glanced between her and the food bag, still growling. More awake, Rosie studied him in greater detail; his body and face were lined with scars, some shallow and recoverable, others wider, deeper and permanent. Patches of fur had been ripped from his skin, and even a small section of one of his ears was missing.

Rosie understood his intent and slowly backed away from him and the food, keeping her eyes forward and wary.

She’d moved halfway down the aisle when the male finally moved. Still growling, he stepped over the food bag and leaned down, sniffing. Rosie stopped and watched from the safer distance, wondering if the other would know that she’d eaten some; he likely would, given how little was already left. Rosie scanned the shelves around them; there were several other bags of food around, but none with the same distinct smell and taste of this one, the one she’d grown so used to over such a long time, that brought with it memories of Julie and home, her old life.

Apparently satisfied, the other looked up again and stared down the aisle at Rosie. His constant growling relaxed, only coming in small bursts, and he didn’t move. They watched each other without any indication of what might happen next for some time. It appeared that though the male was ready to defend his food, he didn’t intend to fight Rosie over it now that she’d surrendered, to her relief. Still, Rosie didn’t want to leave, either. The food Julie had once fed her was the first alleviation of her loneliness she’d found since leaving Sanders, and putting that aside, there was enough other food lining the shelves for plenty more than just the two of them. There was one other reason she didn’t want to leave; she was desperate for some break from being alone, and another like her, though unfriendly and defensive, was the best opportunity she’d found in a long time, given he hadn’t automatically tried to attack her or chase her away on sight, as many others had.

Rosie laid down to wait for the male to calm, hoping he wouldn’t rush her while she was undefended. His growling slowed, quietened, eventually stopping altogether, though he never took his eyes from her. Rosie rested her head between her front paws, and, finally understanding she wasn’t a direct threat, he slowly moved towards her.

A jolt of alarm went through Rosie at his approach, but now wasn’t the time to panic. Instead, she rolled onto her side as he carefully came closer. She panted, rolling onto her back with her paws in the air, playful. The male was in no mood to play himself, but at least continued silently approaching.

His first move was leaning down to sniff Rosie, towering over her flat on the ground. He ran his snout over her, sniffing every part of her for signs of danger or deceit. She was fully at his mercy, vulnerable, and satisfied, he moved to her face, sniffing once before Rosie moved to lick his nose. His head shot back, though he didn’t recoil completely, more surprised than scared.

The Male stood over and around her for a long time, watching, sniffing, calculating, while Rosie awaited approval. Eventually he turned without fanfare and walked back to the open food bag. This time, when Rosie rolled back onto her feet and followed, she wasn’t met with disapproval. Male even looked back to see if she’d followed, as if hoping she had.

He leaned over the bag of food, sniffing the small amount inside, watching Rosie until she stood over the bag, too. Male waited until she sniffed the food to growl again. The sudden warning sent Rosie back a few steps, but Male didn’t move otherwise.

Rosie was confused; he’d let return to the bag, but didn’t want her near the contents. Yet, there were bags and boxes and cans all around them, more than they could ever need. Only this one contained the food Julie had once fed her.

Rosie scanned the shelves, developing an idea.

Male watched, intrigued, as she began walking along the aisle, sniffing each bag of food on the first three shelves—she couldn’t reach any higher—searching for the one with the nicest scent. She walked back and forth multiple times before deciding on one on the third shelf, a smaller bag with a tangy, salty flavour that she hoped would appeal to Male as much as it did her.

She reached up on her back legs, latched her teeth onto the bag, and pulled it down. It hit the ground with a solid thud, the pebbles rattling inside. She worked at the bag with her teeth, gnashing and gnawing one corner to get to the treasure inside, while Male patiently watched. It took a decent effort to even pierce the film, but when she did, the smell wafted out much stronger. She even briefly considered eating it herself, but that wasn’t the plan.

After the initial tear, the rest came easier. Rosie separated the hole into one large enough to eat through, ripping it violently enough that some of the pebbles spilled over the cold tiled floor. Satisfied, she picked up the bag in her teeth and carried it to Male, dropping it beside the other bag.

She stepped back and sat, waiting, panting.

Male’s eyes stayed on her while he sniffed the newly opened bag, eventually poking his snout into the hole to finally take a bite of the contents. After chomping one mouthful, his eyes moved from Rosie to the food, and he began to eat with more vigour, accepting the tasty gift.

Rosie made her move, trotting over to the first bag, the one she wanted more than any other. When she put her face towards it, Male growled again, even through chewing his own food. Rosie stopped before trying again, only to be met with another, more aggressive growl.

Fine. Rosie wouldn’t fight over a few mouthfuls of stale pebbles, though it was almost worth it. She left the bag and found another she liked the smell of on the second shelf, tearing it open and eating it herself, without a sound from Male. As long as he had other food to eat, he’d leave the first one alone, and Rosie could wait until he’d let her have it.

Rosie spent the rest of the day looking around, walking up and down the aisles lined with foods, supplies, trinkets and toys that appeared specific to her and others like her. She discovered the largest water supply she’d seen for some time, a large circular tub standing about Rosie’s shoulder height that collapsed when she leaned against it, the surface soft and full of air. Male watched from behind and yelled at her once, annoyed, before demonstrating how to correctly lean over the edge of the pool to drink from the supply without spillage.

The only other time Male yelled at her was when she came to a closed door at the rear of the building. A strong, distinctly unpleasant smell lead Rosie to it, but when she came close, Male warned her away with a single yell and low, continuous growl. She was happy to ignore the door and its scent, one that reminded her of those like her she’d seen throughout her travels, motionless, old and decaying, asleep without the hope of ever waking again.

Without windows, the building was dark, the only sunlight leaking through the row of doors Rosie had come through. When even that darkened with the setting sun, it was time to rest.

Rosie followed Male to the other end of the food aisle where a big, soft circular cushion-bed waited. Curled up into it to sleep, he kept an eye on Rosie, waiting to see what she’d do.

His large form filled the bed, so Rosie looked over the shelf stocked with cushions and blankets and beds of all shapes and sizes to find one for herself. She pulled one out that reminded her of the bed she’d carried Sanders into the last time she’d seen him, crawling into it next to, but not too close, to Male. Without any sounds of disapproval he blinked his eyes closed, Rosie doing the same.

It was still too dark for morning to have arrived when Rosie opened her eyes. She sat up, looking around for whatever had woken her—a quiet, moving tapping on the tiled floor. Male still slept beside her, curled up in his bed, and Rosie stretched to stand and investigate.

The sound moved through the aisle beside hers and Rosie followed along, identifying breathing and panting; the tapping, she realised, were claws hitting the ground with each step, the same way hers did. Near the end of the aisle, Rosie sat and panted, mouth hanging open, excited to see the new ones like her. She’d been alone for so long, and now, all of a sudden, she was making new friends faster than she could handle.

They turned the corner into Rosie’s aisle. Two of them, one slightly smaller than Rosie with short, brown fur, and another bigger than Rosie but smaller than Male, a dark grey coat with patches of white.

As soon as they noticed Rosie, they raised their hackles and growled. They looked closer to Male than Rosie, covered cuts and scars, patches of torn fur, their coats mangled and weathered. Their eyes darting between her and the three open bags of food between them, periodically flicking their tongues over their bared teeth as saliva dripped from their jaws. Rosie wondered if they’d seen the shelves around them; there was plenty for all four of them to eat without having to claim the already opened bags. She stood, wanting to carefully move closer to show them there was no reason for defensiveness, but the two only took her movement as a sign of aggression.

They yelled, screamed, and pushed forward, warning Rosie, threatening her. She froze, not wanting to exacerbate the situation, but it made no difference. They shouted over and over at her, eyes as white as their bared teeth, claws scratching into the ground with each shout that took over their whole bodies.

Before Rosie could decide to back down or submit, she heard more tapping rapidly approach from behind her. The other two noticed it as well, their attention shifting from Rosie to look past her. She didn’t take her eyes off the two as a large, black blur shot past her, air rushing through her fur, as Male shouted his own threats. His, however, weren’t warnings, and a moment later he collided with the newcomers.

Rosie watched snarling, snapping, and growling overcome all three, rolling and tumbling and pushing against each other, the black, brown, and grey coats mixing into a blur of rage and violence. Angry shouts filled Rosie’s ears, punctuated with loud whines as Brown or Grey would sink their teeth into Male’s shoulders, or he would get his jaw gripped on one of their necks or limbs. Their snouts snapped at each others, drawing blood enough to fill the air with the metallic scent as it flecked their teeth, tails and legs and paws flinging in all directions.

Rosie shouted for all of them to stop, no reason to fight with such abundance around them, but they they were far beyond the point of listening. She’d never seen such a vicious fight so close, let alone been involved in one, but she couldn’t just watch while Male fought Brown and Grey. He at least appeared able to hold his ground, larger than them and fighting just as aggressively as both combined, if not more.

But as the fight continued, Male seemed to lose the upper hand. Grey would distract him for Brown to circle around and bite at his hind legs or abdomen, and when Male would yelp and spin to defend the attack, Grey would come from behind to tear at his back. Male’s size and brute force aggression wouldn’t be enough to win against the two that fought together, organised.

Distracted by Grey, Male left an opening for Brown to leap and grip its teeth tight on Male’s neck, causing him to falter and fall on his face.

Rosie could no longer watch.

She ran, something primal bursting from within as she shouted at the two to leave Male alone, wanting them all to realise how meaningless the fight was, and leapt with all her weight against Brown.

Brown released its grip on Male and slid across the floor, quickly getting to its feet as fast as Male and Grey returned to their rolling and snapping and vicious yelling, now one on one. Brown wasted no time adjusting to the changed scenario and immediately attacked Rosie.

Having never fought another like her, Rosie relied solely on instinct as she snapped her teeth at Brown, ripping into its fur but never quite effectively enough to cause injury, nor draw blood. Brown, on the other hand, was seasoned, judging by its rough coat and well-placed and timed snaps at Rosie’s legs and back and snout. She pushed and kicked Brown, growled and tried to fight it off, but nothing worked for more than a heartbeat until Brown would be on her again, distracting her enough in the dark to slink around with its smaller size and scrape at or sink its teeth in her again.

Brown had the upper hand from the start, and it wasn’t long before its jaws clamped her neck from the side, sinking into her flesh with a stronger grip than Rosie could believe. The shock of pain caught her by surprise, giving Brown the advantage to throw her off her feet and pin her to the cold tiles, chomping harder and tighter into her neck every second, growling through her fur while she whined and yelped, kicking and struggling to get out of the grip, unable to do anything else.

She ceased her whining, stopped moving altogether, her last chance for survival to surrender and admit defeat so Brown would leave her alone, but nothing changed; if anything Brown only clamped down harder, ceasing Rosie’s ability to breathe or feel anything other than its teeth digging into her.

As Rosie’s vision blurred, desperately searching for oxygen, distantly she realised there were no other sounds over Brown’s growling into her fur as there had been only moments ago; Male and Grey were silent.

Though it felt like an eternity, an instant later relief finally came for Rosie’s throat at the same time Brown yelped with a desperate whine. Rosie didn’t move, either from fear or pain, watching from the tiles as Male lifted Brown by the neck, the entire weight of the smaller body like a toy in his teeth wriggling and writhing to escape, hopeless. Male swung Brown side to side in his jaw faster than Rosie could compute, a ragdoll under Male’s immense strength.

After shaking Brown around until it was silent and limp, its wide, desperate eyes darting around, Male threw it across the aisle. It scrambled to its feet, looking over to see Grey motionless on the ground behind Male, tongue hanging out its open jaw. Brown whined at Grey, attempting to move closer to its fallen friend, but Male shouted to silence and freeze his opponent. Brown, weakened and defeated, whined once more before turning and running, claws tapping the tiles fading until gone, only harsh panting filling the air.

Male watched where Brown had fled, eventually turning his attention to Rosie lying on the ground. The pain coursing through her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, even worse with the heat of the moment having faded. Her legs, back, abdomen, and snout all burnt and stung, but nothing like her neck, on fire, impossibly cold and hot at the same time, coupled with her desperate, short, panting breaths moving the skin that only made the pain worse.

Male towered over her, studying her condition. He leaned down and sniffed her neck, which Rosie now felt was slick either with Brown’s saliva, her own blood, or both. Male inspected her other wounds, some only scratches, others deeper. He hesitantly licked a larger scratch on her back, then with more care began to lick any and all wounds he found.

Rosie closed her eyes as she focused on her shallow breathing, Male’s tongue soothing what he could of her injuries. The last thing she saw before falling into exhausted unconsciousness was Grey, lying across from her in a similar position, a small pool of blood beneath its own neck, its whole body completely still.

When Rosie woke again, her whole body still burned, though the pain had eased slightly. She could manage moving her legs, though she didn’t want to, too defeated to warrant standing. When she tried to crane her neck to look around, the sensitive area raged, ceasing that movement as well.

She looked around with only her eyes, noticing Male seated in front of her, watching. Grey was gone behind him, but more importantly, the smell of food filled her nostrils, overtaking the scent of blood and the fight, distracting her more than anything else had from the pain. Male leaned his snout down to push the bag of food closer to Rosie, the one she’d first found upon arrival that reminded her so much of Julie, of Sanders and home and a life she now more than ever wished she could return to.

Male pushed it right by her chin, and though she couldn’t muster the effort to eat, she closed her eyes and moved her head as much as she could to face Male, slowly blinking at him. He understood the gesture, leaning down to lick her neck before returning to one of the other open food bags. Rosie fell asleep again to the sound of him chewing mouthfuls of the pebbles she’d offered to him.

Waking again on the tiles, a small amount of light now beamed in through the front doors a distance away. Still in immense pain, Rosie felt just recovered enough to stand, slowly and carefully.

The aisle was empty, Grey’s body nowhere to be seen, nor Male. The food bag he’d given her was still by her feet and Rosie slowly ate it all, desperate for nourishment but still savouring each bite of the nostalgic meal, Julie flashing past her thoughts with every chew. When finished, she called out for Male, weaker and quieter than she’d expected, wanting to thank him properly for the food and for caring for her. There was no response.

Rosie limped through the aisles on one leg that had been especially hurt, following the scent and trail of Grey. It wasn’t difficult; along with the smell was a thin trail of dark, dried blood. It lead to the door at the back of the building, which Male had earlier warned her away from. The overwhelming stench of death and decay flooded her senses as she realised the door was now open.

The sound of buzzing insects filled Rosie’s ears as she took in the sight of the room. Three dead bodies, all like her, larger and closer to Male in appearance, lay at the back of the room in various states of decay. Grey was in front, the same as it had been when Rosie last saw it, a small puddle of blood beneath its throat, while a darker, larger one behind it was covered in an assortment of crawling insects. Another behind that, even bigger, perhaps bigger than Male, was almost half gone, falling apart for how long it had been rotting.

Rosie left the room of death, sickened by the stench and sight.

She spent the rest of the day in her bed, cycling between eating and sleeping, waiting for Male to return. They’d survived the fight together, helped one another, shared their food; though perhaps not friends, they could at least enjoy each other’s company enough to alleviate the loneliness she’d endured since leaving Sanders.

As the front row of doors darkened with the fading daylight, Male never returned. Rosie had followed his scent to the entrance where it continued outside. He must have left, though Rosie wasn’t ready to herself.

He hadn’t wanted her near the room of death earlier, yet Grey’s trail had lead right to it, letting her see the corpses inside. If nothing else, it was proof that Male was strong enough to kill three others while staying in this place, and that he would protect it if he needed to… even from Rosie.

Then why had he left?

The death room may have been a warning to Rosie, though not of what Male was capable of; perhaps it was a warning of what it meant to stay in this place. She had followed the scent of food into this building, the same as Male likely had, the same as Brown and Grey that they’d fought… and the other two he’d killed and left in the back room.

Male could be trying to show her the danger of this place, that it drew too much attention, as she’d unfortunately learned the difficult way. Now he’d left, and if she didn’t leave, too, she’d have to fight to stay here, when another who wasn’t willing to share inevitably arrived.

She’d proven she was no use in a fight, especially alone. She knew there were other places to stay—she’d found plenty on her way here—somewhere less likely to draw attention from others like her, lonely and desperate and hungry, though more dangerous.

Rosie ate one more mouthful from an opened bag. The outside wasn’t completely dark yet; she could leave now, a little time to find shelter elsewhere for the night before she would properly move on in the morning.

She walked to the entrance, upset that Male had left without any ceremony, but grateful for his help, before stopping.

A sound outside, stepping and shuffling and rattling, approached the doors. Rosie froze, afraid whatever it was would attack her on sight. She could barely walk without pain shooting through her, let alone engage in any kind of physical contest.

She listened, the sound not one she’d been expecting; there were no claws tapping or scraping on the concrete, no panting with each step or sniffing to inspect its surroundings. The steps themselves were slower and heavier than her own, more deliberate and set apart, and the rattling shook along with each step.

When the door opened, Rosie looked up, realising why the sounds hadn’t made sense.

The limb that pushed the door open was too high, far above her head, followed by a towering figure draped in loose, hanging cloths and assorted equipment hanging from the top of its legs and over its shoulders. The heavy, covered feet stomped into the building as the door swung closed behind it. Rosie froze, the figure scanning around the interior, most of its face covered by more cloth. It stopped when its eyes finally rested on her, looking down at her from its two legs as stunned as she was, until finally it crouched down to her level with hands extended. One hand held a long, flat metal stick, parts of it splattered with dark red, and the other hand moved to pull down the cloth beneath its eyes, revealing the face beneath.

The two eyes, a flat nose and mouth, a gentle, soothing sound emanating from its lips, the long hair falling only from the top of its head; Rosie recognised what it was, though it had been so long she couldn’t immediately believe the sight. This wasn’t one like her, nor Sanders, nor like any other she’d seen for longer than she could almost remember. It was one like the rest of her family. Like Julie.

Rosie wagged her tail, tongue hanging out her mouth as she panted with excitement.

‘Well, hey there,’ the man said with words Rosie couldn’t understand, though his calm tone told her enough. ‘You’re actually friendly, huh?’