Between lounging on the couches downstairs, begging food from various patrons, and spending what little time he could outside running gleefully around the forest chasing bunnies and pretending to be a horse again, Dug has had a Good Day. It was only made better by the discovery of his Octoplushie (which seems to go missing on a regular basis; if Dug didn't know better he'd say it was trying to run away from him) in a dark corner of the bar under a chair cushion, and a marathon chewing session on said plush.

But now it's getting close to bedtime. Dug's paws are heavy as he climbs the stairs to Kate's room, tentacled stuffie hanging from his mouth. It makes it a little difficult to press the button Miss Bar rigged up at exactly nose-height, but eventually he manages it and the door swings open to admit him.

He gets about a foot across the floor towards Kate and the bed before he registers that her familiar scent seems...different. He stops, sniffs the air, squints at her face and tries to figure out exactly what it is.

It comes to him a moment later, along with memories of the Cone of Shame and how it feels when the pack turns away from him as one body, how it feels when he is a Bad Dog. It's sadness, he thinks. Kate's sad.

And that's not right.