She knew this because trying to go back to the site of their incarceration had nearly ended up with her being adopted. Eight times. Apparently she was just too cute for her own good.
Still, it was a mournful look she turned towards her reflection. Having no hands meant all sorts of activities were going to be clumsy at best and impossible at worst.
Not that she was helpless. She had the typical abilities one would expect of a young dog, though she seemed a little bit stronger than you'd expect. Her oversized (for the rest of her) paws gripped things well and gave her excellent traction. She could also manipulate things in a clumsy fashion using mouth and forepaws. It was a bit of a stretch and work, but she could open a door. (Which had been necessary on one of those near-adoption occasions for her bid for freedom.)
She flopped back on her bed, wondering what she could do next when she picked up the scent that she now could interpret as "Nabiki" lingering outside her room.
She'd been able to tell from scent a wealth of information, and even that these were her sisters, when they'd crossed paths again outside the warehouse the Yakuza had turned into their macabre little laboratory. Which was good as they'd all been altered. Nabiki was:
(Posted Thu, 01 Mar 2007 17:01)
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