Dog was going to fucking die. Literally. Although mostly healed, he was bored out of his mind. Really, really bored... and dirty. The being dirty wasn't that big of a deal, it was just a constant reminder of his predicament. There's only so much rolling around in the dirt anyone could do.

He had figured out where he was, and the paranoia that Harpy Whisper would find him didn't help things... but he needed to heal up. It had just been so long since he had some fun. There had been that couple the other night, dressed up like Rocky Horror loons that had tempted him, but he had decided to keep a low profile. Just snack. No play.

Dog had tried plotting. He really had. Against Mandrake... against Davis... against them... but... he just wasn't the plotting type.

He sighed and turned over, staring at the moon.

Sometimes it called to him.

He wanted to howl at it.