there's something about weeknights in the suburbs

A threat... frankly, Halo is the farthest thing from it. The soft, pale creature is far more concern with the bits of dried poultice that have stuck to her jar than the world around her. Some days, that would prove to be dangerous. The one track mind tends to be a concerning fault, but that was okay. She would be okay... most days. The pale girl frowned to herself, chipping at the remnants with one of her nails. As she turned to ask Mr. Raccoon if he'd give it a try with his smaller, more dexterous hands, Halo heard a voice.

Easily startled, the girl dropped her bowl into the water with a plop. A sheepish smile crossed her lips, and she looked up to the source of the greeting. She hadn't smelled another wolf out here and... oh that's not a wolf. Her pulse picked up, an ear flickering back. All Halo could think of was the panther that had attacked her on her first day in Boreas. No, no, she was okay. The pale girl did her best to steady her breathing, and hopefully her heart rate with it. No, this wasn't the same. This wasn't a panther. This was a woman with pretty spots that spoke gently, and appeared to pose no threat. Halo offered a smile of her own, fishing the bowl from the water. "Good afternoon," the words finally came, her tone sheepish.

"Sorry, are we stealing your spot?" She's apologetic, sheepish. Ever concerned about intruding, she is. "We can um, we can grab a different spot to do dishes." Halo offered a meek smile. It's hard for her to get around her nerves when it came to social situations.

"Halo"