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Past the night's curfew, the occasional patrol would see to it that all military trainees were to stay in their dorms. Of course, this was with the exception of trips made between the dorms and outhouses, which (for good reason) stood separately from Falke, Lusche and Tragen. Thus, nights were usually silent save for the occasional telltale creaks of doors opened and closed by those whose bladders would interrupt their sleep.

Lloren's bladder was one of such. Night after night for almost the entire past year, she'd made the long, chilly trip between Lusche and the outhouses with strange regularity. Should anyone see her, they would not suspect a thing; they might even silently thank her in their minds for filling the buckets with water at the hand pump and lugging those back toward the narrow wooden structures.

Thing is, that water wasn't all for washing. It was brought behind the outhouses now, one in each hand, with hardly a grunt from the trainee who was well used to such labours. There, away from the public eye, vertical twigs extended up from the hard-packed dirt against the back of every few cubicles; if one looked again they might notice the leaves tilting in the breeze and conclude that these were, in fact, young trees.

Rolling up the pants of her pajamas in a crouch, the frizzy-haired trainee admired the growth of her little projects and congratulated them on reaching new heights. The tallest stood about five feet tall already, though its foliage was sparse and hardly developed. Still, they had all grown so much from the state in which she had uprooted them and stuffed them into her jacket, on their way back from survival class. Even with the skills picked up helping her mother with her extensive gardening hobby, it was a marvel those sprouts had survived this well. Was it because the ground here was so, erm, well fertilized, or did she had a green thumb? Or, she surmised... In the dark of the night, colors had a tendency to drain away, softened like a dream. Her success in nighttime horticulture would then be more aptly attributed to a 'grayish-looking-thumb'. Hey, that was kinda good. Too bad she couldn't tell anyone.

As Lloren was carefully pouring one of several buckets of water by one of their bases, a movement caught her eye. She looked up to witness the mystery of the weakest member solve itself. Lo and behold, a dirty stray dog approached the shortest of her trees and- horror of horrors- lifted its leg, a glittering stream beginning to trace an arc from dog to trunk. Lloren stood up slowly, careful not to startle it, and muttered at the dog while making a slow shooing motion. "Hey! Bad dog! Stop! Nnno! Nnyoh!"

The stray looked up at the human and saw the moon glinting in ominous squarish pools off of Lloren's glasses like the eyes of some large predator. It bared its teeth, ears flattened, and began to growl. Lloren blinked. What? What did she do? She caught her own reflection in the bucket's water and finally understood. Sigh. Whyyyyy did it have to be this way. She tried to back away. In response, the stray dog began to bark aggressively. In the relative silence, it was deafening enough to make her flinch.

Not wanting to attract any attention, Lloren grimaced. "Shhh! SHHHHH!" Why did she even bother? The dog wasn't going to listen in this state, and it wasn't about to let her leave peacefully and quietly, either. She glanced worriedly at the young growing trees, then back at this stray that was pretty much challenging her for the territory at this point. "So that's how you wanna play, huh? You leave me no choice."

She began a low growl, a deeper-lunged imitation of the dog's own, and stomped to indicate her intention to stand her ground. It refused to back off; instead it began to circle her, feinting attacks. Fine then! She threw her water at the stray- It scrambled aside, yelping at the cold liquid splash, and ran a few steps. Did she succeed in scaring it off? No. It doubled back and lunged at Lloren, jaws snapping. She merely offered it a nearest target by turning and extending the side of her arm; surely enough it took the bait, but all it caught for all of its agility was sleeve. After all, she had been ready with that now empty bucket. The moment it had entered Lloren's space, she turned and shoved it onto its head. Blinded, it began to shake and thrash, but she wasn't about to let it get rid of it that easily. Unlike cats, dogs didn't really use their claws; without their teeth they were as good as disarmed. Thus she grappled its body with her legs, bringing the fight to the ground as she kept the bucket firmly over the dog's head with both of her arms.

"Damn- little- rascal- submit already! Argh-!" Its attempts at escape kept her quite busy, but until it gave up she wouldn't let go. Self-defence or not, injuring a dumb stray that got frightened by her spectacles would weigh on her conscience, so she was counting herself lucky not to have to get any more violent than rolling around in the dirt. Hopefully, it did not have fleas.

Despite the girl's certainty that the dog's claws wouldn't be used as a weapon, the struggle was nonetheless violent; flurries of canine kicks raked across Lloren's skin even through her pajamas. It made no difference and she could hardly feel them. It'd take much more than that for her to release her hold. She could feel it starting to lose vigor. This boded well, thought the trainee.

However, the change in intensity of the stray's struggles was not really due to submission- it was because its nose picked up a scent that no human could pick up, but which was, ironically, the scent of humans itself. Another person had arrived on the scene, having it reconsider its odds.

In all of her concentration, Lloren did not notice Axel until he spoke. She looked up in surprise and loosened her grip, a moment which the dog took full advantage of. Like a slippery otter it wrung itself out of her grasp and beat a hasty retreat. The bucket continued clanging around its head as it ran in an arbitrary direction until the dog crashed into a wall, after which it fell on the ground in a series of clatters, left behind by its mangy bearer.

"Er... it attacked me first. I think." She wasn't entirely sure at this point. Not too sure what she could say to look less crazy, either. The frizzy-haired trainee got up, pajamas miraculously intact, and brushed herself off. She couldn't recognize Axel in the dim lighting behind the outhouses; adjusting her glasses with a push of her fingers, she hoped it was the same for him. She glanced back in the direction of the dorms and considered bolting much like the dog had, before this other guy had any time to familiarize himself with her voice.

It wasn't that big of a surprise that her interlocutor began to laugh. The hilarity of the situation did occur to her, as well. Seeing him clutch his stomach with a great amounts of laughter, the comedian part of her was gratified and she even found herself chuckling along, but as his mirth continued to uncouth lengths she rolled her eyes and smirked, crossing her arms. "Hey now. That'll be enough embarrassment for one night, thank you. Just come along now, this way-" She extended an arm in gesture and stepped forward to graciously begin leading the man away from the young trees and back around to the other side of the outhouses. That is, until he spoke her name. Tch, so he knows me. She raised her hands in mock alarm. "Oh no, Iiii've been caught. Woe am I."

His build and voice did strike her as familiar. Unfortunately, those bells were ringing out of tune for the time being. Axel's guess was an amusing one, making Lloren crack a smile. She spread her fingers like a fan behind her head and shook them, speaking in an all-too recognizeable tone. "The filthy strays on this campus are disorganized vermin! No better than the rodents they eat, sneaking around for scraps. It's about goshdarned time someone whip them into shape. After I, Santos Baldy, expose them to my forehead beams of discipline, even the stinking fleabags that they are will fall into the ranks of the first Canine Scouting Legion, bane of titans everywhere. 3DMG training begins tomorrow. DIS-MISSED-!" She saluted and proceeded to run back toward Lusche.

Wait a minute. Belatedly realizing something had been off, Lloren stopped a short ways away and swung around. He'd been clutching his side an awful lot, rather than just crumpling over the whole of one's stomach as a person having fits of laughter would be prone to do. "Hey, dude, you ok?"

"Pfft." Lloren had a brief puff of laughter and shook her head. It had probably been nothing! "Nice pun, musta taken some guts to make it. Right then, my good man. I bid you adieu, my pillow needs me. Stay frosty!" She double pistol hand gestured at him and turned, making the short jog back from the bathrooms.

Thinking she'd have to change clothes before she could proceed to go back to sleep, Lloren lamented the military's early mornings.

Thanks to the cover of darkness, the trainee hadn't known she'd been addressing Axel all along. Her attitude might have been much different. Would he come to think she has split personalities during daytime and nighttime, or be well aware she hadn't known it was he who had witnessed that trouble with the dog?! Only time will telllllll.