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"That's not my real name," Gir was quick to protest. "That's just what Evan calls me 'cause he's lazy. My real actual name is Gwrgenau, which isn't growly at all!" He yipped happily as Bea got back up, thankful that she wasn't dead or worse, and got up to run after her. He jogged in actual circles around her as she tried to make another go of it on all fours. "Try running on two legs," he suggested. "It's not as fun, but it's way way faster and you'll probably fall over a lot less, and we have to beat them so we can get to China and bones gogogo!"

"That's no pressure at all," Evan replied as he contemplated what to make: maybe something a little different, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Nothing he didn't already know how to make--not for this, he wanted to impress Nora, not give her food poisoning--but something she may never have had before. A smile grew as he finally settled on a menu. "I don't think you'll be disappointed," he assured her. "Surprised? Maybe. Impressed? Probably. Stuffed? Absolutely." Not that he was confident or anything.

"Americans like a lot of fast food. They'll eat anything that's dyed, fried, or otherwise processed," Evan admitted. He wasn't a health nut or anything, though he had always kept himself in shape--and he certainly wasn't above indulging when the mood struck--but it was an honest answer. "I heard somewhere we eat more sugar than, like, any other people on the planet or something. Damn shame," he said, shaking his head. "What about you Brits? A lot of tea and fish and chips?" He teased, affecting an awful accent.

Gir's ears perked as Beatrix got the hang of running. He paused to watch her for a moment before his howl echoed hers, surprisingly quiet, and he took off after her. Even though Beatrix was playmate, not prey, the urge to chase was overwhelmingly potent. He kept on her heels as they crested the hill and ran down it, until the hard-packed dirt turned to soft, shifting sand, and then, tail wagging, he pounced.

Evan, oblivious as to what was going on just out of sight, smiled and staggered obligingly as Nora pushed him. "Sorry, English," he amended, properly chastised, his hands held up in mock surrender. "What is the difference, anyway? What's so great about tea, and what's Yorkshire pudding? Anything like actual dessert?" Because he hadn't planned that yet, and he was always open to ideas.

Evan stifled a laugh at Nora's show of indignation, trying and failing to look properly chastised as she mocked his tea-related ignorance. "American," he said by way of explanation, "but I'll certainly take you up on that." He listened attentively as she went on to describe the intricacies of her homeland, falling quickly into confusion and plummeting deeper as her explanation grew more convoluted. He could find at least most of these places on a map, but that was as far as his knowledge of Great Britain--the United Kingdom of This, That, and The Other--whatever--extended. She had called herself English, though, and he made a mental note to do the same if only to avoid further lectures in the future.

"That sounds good," Evan replied quickly as Nora described Yorkshire pudding, hoping to forgo another lengthy explanation. It did sound taste, though. "Maybe you can show me--" He paused, listening to the sudden racket that could only have been caused by two dogs fighting.

He feared the worst and was not disappointed as he reached the top of the rise and saw the golems rolling around in the sand. "Probably not sturdy enough for much more of that," he replied, wincing as Beatrix caught Gir's ear.

Gir yipyipyiped as Beatrix bit him, pushing at her shoulders to get her off of him. When that didn't work, he grabbed a pigtail in each hand and pulled until his ear slipped free, scraping along her teeth on its way out. Now in significantly less pain, Gir growled happily at Beatrix, his tail wagging.

"Get off of her, dumbass!" Evan shouted, exasperated at Gir's behavior. He almost never let Gir loose around other people for pretty much this exact reason; he never knew how Gir was going to act, but most of the time it ranged from bad to terrible. This was a new low, though Evan was thankful that Gir hadn't started humping any legs. Yet.

Gir whined, disappointed, but let Beatrix go and scrambled to his feet in a flurry of limbs and fur and sand. His tail blurred behind himself as he looked between Evan, Nora, and Bea, grinning in that manically beatific way that usually meant Evan was going to have to talk him out of some crazy idea or another. Instead, he screeched, "Let's go to China!" And took off running down the beach.

Evan heaved a sigh and shook his head, frowning apologetically at Nora. "I am so sorry for him. Can't take him anywhere."

Evan's eyebrows rose as Nora pinched her weapon's ear. Note to self: never make her mad, holy s**t. His mom hadn't been above doing the same thing when he'd acted out as a kid, and he remembered how painful it was. It wasn't something he had any desire to repeat as an adult. She seemed to have the discipline part down, though. He grinned, amused, as Bea promised to behave. Maybe he could take a lesson.

"Guess that's why there's leash laws on the mainland," Evan agreed. "At least we don't have to clean up after them." Though there had been that one time where it had been a near thing. "My cultural inferiority, I think. I don't know how wet they're allowed to get, but..." he trailed off, looking down the beach where Gir was barking wildly at the waves as they rolled out only to screech frantically and run away when they came back in. Rinse and repeat every time Gir noticed the water wasn't following him anymore. "Go find China, Gir!" He called when he couldn't stand the barkbarkbarkeeeeeeeeeebarkbarkbark anymore. Gir obediently turned from the shore and dove headfirst into a dry sand dune. Well, whatever, no one said they had to bring the golems back clean.

Evan sighed and shook his head. "So," he said slyly, "is that how you treated your perps? Sound scolding and fingers of steel?"

Gir looked up from his incredibly important task of digging a hole, small patches of pale skin peeking out from the layer of sand that covered most of him. "We're digging to China," he explained patiently, "because...because..." Why were they digging to China? "Why are we digging to China?" Gir yelled at Evan.

"To get Chinese food," Evan called back.

"To get Chinese food," Gir informed Bea.

"I might," Evan hinted with a shrug and a grin. "Are you the good cop or the bad cop, Constable?"

"Britty," Gir repeated, giggling. "What a funny word. Britty. Briiiittyyyyyy," Gir sing-songed as he dug. Unfortunately, he was digging from the bottom of the pile, and the sand on top of it rushed in as soon as he scooped out a hole; he was getting nowhere fast, but at least it kept him happy.

Evan arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "I think, Ms. Constable, that I'm curious about your interrogation techniques."

Gir's high-pitched giggle was--thankfully--mostly muffled by the sand he was half-buried in and was quickly accompanied by frantic snorting as sand got up his nose. He whined and backpedaled, freeing himself from the mountain of sand. His ears flopped audibly as he shook his head in an attempt to clear it of grit embedded where it was never meant to be.

"What?" Gir asked, looking from Bea, over his shoulder at Evan--to make sure he was out of earshot, whatever that was for humans--and back again. "Oh, him," he confirmed with a roll of his eyes. "His dreams are dumb and he talks to himself sometimes. He's a real weirdo," he confided to Bea in a loud whisper. "Not like me. I'm awesome."

Evan shrugged, not bothering to deny Nora's statement--it was true, after all. "Was that the best part of the job? Having a captive audience?"