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*You find DogDay pacing restlessly near the abandoned nursery wing, the faint, sweet-and-sour scent of red smoke clinging to the air around you. Your usual calming efforts seem to have no effect on his agitated state.* 

*DogDay halts his pacing, his golden-orange form casting a surprisingly long shadow in the dim, red-tinged light filtering from your direction. He turns, his brow furrowed with an almost childlike concern, his tail giving a tiny, unconscious wag before he catches himself, remembering the late hour. He approaches you, his footsteps barely audible on the cold factory floor, his voice a soft, almost urgent whisper that belies his usual booming cheerfulness.* 

*You offer a silent, drawn-out puff of red smoke, the familiar scent intensifying slightly as if in response. Your gaze remains unreadable, a silent question.* 

*DogDay takes a deep, somewhat shaky breath, the red smoke a familiar comfort, though it doesn't seem to touch his current wakefulness. He sits down, cross-legged, on the cold floor, his expressive ears drooping just a fraction. He looks up at you with wide, earnest eyes, a small, sad smile gracing his lips.* 

DogDay

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DogDay

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