Greta hums thoughtfully. There's clearly more to dog ownership here in Darrow than there would be back home, but she doesn't find that very daunting. Demelza seems more than happy to help, and Greta's already picked up a few things just from spending time with her -- and perhaps even moreso with Sam. She knows she'd have to gather a few things before she'd be ready to bring a dog into her apartment: food and water dishes, a leash (because while Garrick does fine without one, she wouldn't presume a dog she'd just bought would follow her obediently and not dart out into traffic), toys and things for it to chew on, a bed of some sort.

A few weeks ago, it all would have struck her as too much bother. Now, the thought of having a specific list of things to do is a comfort. She knows she could use the distraction. Dwelling on her own sorrows isn't just depressing; it's also gone on long enough to be boring. She can almost feel herself waking up a little at the prospect of getting a dog, precisely because of how much it would entail.

"I'd like that," she decides. "Perhaps not today, though. I'd have to pick some things up, first, like food and a leash and so on. And I don't know anything about getting a license -- is it terribly complicated?" She curls her arm around Demelza's shoulders and gives her a brief squeeze. "I might pester you mercilessly about this," she adds in a good-natured warning.