-	“Chief… Good morning.” I like seeing her like this, she’s more comfortable now. I guess after really seeing through me, she’s not scared of me anymore.
  -	“Good morning.” I’m already knee deep on documents, my Cattledog just goes straight for the mountain chain of boxes and starts placing them all on the floor. It’s a feat I’m not quite impressed with, but nonetheless thankful for, considering I wouldn’t be able to do it myself.
  
  
   I’m unsure what I’ll do with those boxes and their materials, but my heart tells me to order them alphabetically in file cabinets— ...I’m sick of reading and thinking about my job, I want to get hands on with some gear. Lose some steam, get rid of the fog in my brain.
  … That and I may or may not be in the mood to talk to her. Field stripping stuff and cleaning it, with how basic it is… should allow me to talk with less suspicion than by ignoring the documents in my face.
  -	“Chief?” She beats me to the punch right as I was getting ready with the tools and cleaning supplies.
  -	“Yeah?”
  -	“…Is it really okay to pull me from the belt? Didn’t you say I was producing a lot of guns?”
  -	“…It’s complicated.”
  -	“Are you saying that because you don’t want to bore me with the details or because it’s classified?”
  -	“The former.”
  -	“…I’d like to hear you talk, it makes menial tasks a little bit more entertaining… I think you’d benefit out of it too.” Damn this dog, always one step ahead of me! And stop doing that pretty face of yours! Damn you!
  -	“The surplus you created through sheer expertise is abnormal, I didn’t even relay it to my higher ups at the administration. They’d start to believe they can ask for more weapons than I can actually produce, and then, if by some ill mechanism of fate you were to disappear like many other cattle do… You see the problem?”
  -	“…You’re very thoughtful and pensive about these things… I like that about you.”
  I can’t even say anything to that, if I try, I’ll bust an aorta. I know I’ll get flushed and fuck it up and then she’ll know the way to make me bashful is to praise me.
  -	“…”
  -	“Did I make you embarrassed?”
  -	“What? No.” I fell for it, the oldest trick in the book, in my desperate plea to prove my emotional stability, I’ve fallen prey to panic.
  -	“You blink a lot faster when you get bashful… I think it’s kind of cute that you do that.”
  -	“I should kill you.” My threat holds no value, she knows I’m just upset she’s right.
  -	“Okay～” She giggles “My apologies, Chief.”
  -	“…Are you like this with everyone?”
  -	“You’re asking if you’re special, aren’t you?” I exude a small scoff and display the tiniest hint of a chuckle, preceding my pathetic attempt at keeping things under some semblance of control.
  -	“Just answer.” I’m this close to breaking into laughter, she hit the nail on the head with that one and it's making my mouth contort into some sort of grin.
  -	“You’re the first person I’ve talked to for this long in my life, I’m just a bit overly excited… Would you rather I don’t?”
  -	“You’re just asking because you want me to say it.” I won’t fall for that one so easily!
  -	“Busted～” She keeps giggling, it pisses me off, but in a good way. “I like it when you figure me out… Such an odd feeling.” It seems she finished sorting one of the boxes, without wasting any time, she immediately starts with the next one. Truly an efficient work ethic if I’ve ever seen one. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?”
  -	“…” There’s no point to dishonesty, she’ll see right through it. And— to be fair… It’s not like she’s shaming me. I suppose honesty is really the only winning move here. “I have, it feels like being understood for once in my life.” …Without the use of words, too. But saying that feels like too much.
  -	“Would you like me to understand you more?” This woman… She just knows what questions will pry me open. I’m sure she heard me exhale once with annoyance, and that’s ought to advertise the effectiveness of her strike.
  -	“Yeah.” I attempt my best to keep control of the situation and my emotions, but I am clearly outmatched here.
  -	“Yay yay~” She proclaims victory with her wide smile and a soft voice, touting a charging handle on each hand as if flags to declare her newly annexed territory. It takes a herculean amount of strength to not smile at it.
            

  I’m unsure if what I did was a mistake. Out there, when she worked under the catwalk, I could observe her calmly, at my pace, with no possible room for error. I was an outsider and there was no harm in just mentally documenting what she was like. But having her here, working next to me, talking to me, figuring me out… 
  it might bite me in the ass in the future. To make matters worse, I’m wholly unsure if I’m capable of keeping control of all this.
  
  I’ve been thinking about this one for some days, but I’m unsure how I’d like to approach it. Maybe the name I gave her was too harsh. I don’t think I’d enjoy being called a dog. I suppose bringing it up with her directly is the best thing I could do, she doesn’t keep many secrets after all.
  
  -	“Hey…” I seal my fate and initiate the conversation. Her bangs are in the way as she barely lifts her head and instead only directs her gaze to me, away from the lower receiver she was cleaning.
  She doesn’t say anything, but she’s made it clear that my words are not falling on deaf ears.
  -	“You uh… Are you okay with the name I’ve given you?” A faint smile widens on her face, it’s the kind of smile she gives me when she’s intentful on teasing me for what I just said.
  -	“Is there anything wrong with my name?” There it is again, that sly tone of hers.
  -	“Of course not! Well— I mean, it’s just a bit odd.”
  -	“How come?”
  -	“Liùhùa and Niúquǎn aren’t exactly names…”
  -	“Why not?” The way she pries me open systematically with just the simplest questions should infuriate me, but I’ve started to think I quite like it when it happens, even if it churns my insides.
  -	“They’re not real names! They’re just… nouns. And, to make matters worse: You didn’t choose these names, I just forced them onto you.” I fall for it every time, she gets me nervous, and I end up spilling what I really mean. It is incessant. She always finds a way to force me to be honest.
  -	“Hm～?” I swear I will kill this woman with my own hands. “Are you implying you chose your own name?” Right before I place my hand on the nearest weapon-shaped object on the table, she speaks out again.
  -	“Alright, alright, let’s calm down.” She flares her palms towards me to diffuse my rightful anger, lower receiver still on her left hand. “I get your point, I’m done teasing you.” She’s still smiling like the sly bastard she is, but I suppose I can forgive her for now.
  -	“Okay.” I take my hand away from whatever object it was on.
  -	“What I wanted to get at was: I’m okay with the name you’ve given me.” She’s directed her entire face at me, instead of just her eyes. “But the caveat is just that, you granted me that name.” My anger subsides, and my curiosity increases. I believe I have a vague idea of what she’s trying to say, but I don’t like hurried assessments.
  -	“Go on.”
  -	“Well… when I was called anything by the system, it didn’t really matter to me. You should know I didn’t remember whatever name I was assigned.” She swipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “But when you call me by a name, be it an ordinal or cardinal number, or an animal with a little more grace than a pig… Well, I’ll gladly take it.” Her voice gets so soft and mellow at times like these. I’d be hard pressed to not calm down whenever she’s this sweet. “In short,” She continues, “Names are something people grant to you with use. Of course, said people have to be close to you.”
  -	“…” I’m not sure why I feel a bit disappointed with this answer of hers… Logically, it makes sense, it’s quite a good argument on its own… I just can’t quite put my finger on what’s bothering me about it. “What if—” No, that’s not quite right. “Would you really be okay with any name, as long as I give it to you?”
  -	“Yeah, really.” She’s nonchalant, and also quite dry with this answer. She’s not trying to tease me.
  -	“Even if I call you a dog?” Another one of her typical grins spreads across her face.
  -	“I’d be fine if you called me puppy.” My entire face contorts into a grimace in a knee-jerk reaction at that stupid face of hers as she utters those words, even letting out an audible display of disgust. She softly laughs at my instinctual display and says: “Tough luck, huh?”
  -	“Get back to work, cattledog.”