Jordan seems nothing short of delighted as Saoirse kicks the ball over to her, shifting her weight like she means to try to keep her balance before attempting to keep it back over. It's easier said than done — she's very small, still, and the dogs circling them now make for an almost impressive distraction, but she always seems to have determination and enthusiasm in equal parts. Besides, given how few friends she has even remotely close to her own age, she's less competitive than she is hopeful, as is Sam. It really would be nice, he thinks, if this could lead somewhere, maybe become a regular occurrence. This — it's nice, Sam thinks. Normal, maybe. The sort of thing he could get used to.

Smile broadening as he watches the two dogs run in a circle, he bites back a laugh as he looks over at Greta. "Yeah, just a few, probably. Real helpful."