It's something Sam has gotten used to, half-keeping an eye on Jordan while doing something else, his daughter always in his peripheral vision but his focus elsewhere. He's pretty sure, in fact, that it's a necessary skill, but it's a useful one, too. If not for that, he'd never be able to get half as much work done, or bring her with him when he runs any errands, or stop to have a conversation with anyone. Besides, right now, he's hardly worried. With the number of them here, people and dogs alike, it seems unlikely that he would miss any indication of trouble. So he listens carefully to Greta as she speaks, Jordan appeased by finally being able to get back to playing, and nods slowly in response to her question.

"They do," he says, his expression turning a bit sheepish then, "though I'd be lying if I said I remembered much of anything about them." It's just not the sort of thing he'd ever paid that much attention to. He wouldn't have thought he would need to, though he wishes now that he had a few details he could fall back on. "Is she..."