Quoted By:
“As Acting Commander of Canine-Corps Decontamination Protocol, I will now perform the Lapping Hound: Warm as Water technique.”
Tighnari froze.
“Gorou. No.”
“It’s for your safety!” Gorou beamed, tail lifting with righteous purpose. “Dog saliva contains powerful natural antifungals! It is— quite literally— my healing skill.”
“No, absolutely not—” Tighnari began.
But it was too late.
Gorou mlemed him.
A long, ceremonial, almost priestly tongue swipe right across the muzzle.
Tighnari produced a noise halfway between a gasp, a whimper, and a dissertation written in Avidian.
Lyney pretended to faint.
Lynette pretended to be a corpse.
Itto paw-pumped. “YEAH, MEDICINE!”
Scarameow arched like a threatened ferret.
“I REFUSE! I WILL NOT BE—HEY—NO—DON’T YOU—STAY BACK—”
Gorou locked onto him with the single-minded zeal of a working dog who has been given both authority and a sense of purpose.
Scarameow kicked.
Scratched.
Issued at least two legally actionable threats.
Gorou continued serenely.
“It’s for your own good—hold still please—sir, hygiene is not optional—open your mouth—”
Scarameow snapped.
CHOMP.
Right on Shiba Gorou’s tongue.
The sound that came out of Gorou was so shrill, so painfully Shiba-specific, that every creature within fifty meters momentarily assumed a kettle had reached full boil.
Nahida sighed the sigh of someone who has already predicted this exact outcome and had the supplies ready.
“Alright. We’re doing this.”
With gentle, practiced hands, she wrapped Scarameow—hissing, spitting, and extremely smug—into a secure, ethically-applied purrito for public safety.
