[The Dog pauses as she emerges, staring at the feline before her, or rather, perhaps, feline form. Her nose gives a little twitch and she cocks her head to one side, as if trying to make sense of things before her. She is no strange to beings in forms that aren't really their forms, or perhaps not their original forms. Mogget had been forced into that of a feline, a white one mind. There's no collar seen here at first glance. No gentle peels of a bell.]
no subject
Fresh off the boat.
[The Dog does pause, before correcting.]
Train, if we are being technical.