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Unfortunately, in a very short span of time, Elaine's life had become one of having to revolve a great many caveats and addendums on every mundane decision she made.

Three weeks ago she would not have hesitated to simply charge right up to the teenage girl with her very large dog irresponsibly off-leash, giving her an earful about respect for animals and pedestrians. She would have strolled up with Petitcru in her arms so she that she could hold her up demonstratively, illustrating one of the many reasons this was an irresponsible decision reflecting on a general lack of character.

Unfortunately, a great many things had happened in three weeks, and nearly all of them were making her reluctant to do anything of the kind. But she was still, at the end of the day, Elaine - for better or worse, and nowadays it felt like a better - and after witnessing this for half a block she could constrain herself no longer.

Probably, if the 7-Eleven hadn't been right there, she would have simply gone quietly on her way. But instead she deposited Petitcru in all her shaky bewilderment directly onto the counter in front of Todd - leash included - and didn't give him time to protest, if protest he would.

"Hold her for a minute for me, Doodlebear, I need to go yell at someone," she said hastily, already going out at a half jog.

She also, probably, three weeks ago, would have simply strolled up in her sweatpants. But she'd already had a bad experience with so-called dogs once, and she was also expecting a bad experience with snot-nosed teenagers with superpowers.

We often, in the absence of complete information, arrive at a bad decision after a series of good reasoning. So it is understandable, if unfortunate, that it was not Elaine that rolled up with a stern "hey, you" - it was Joy, holding out a commanding finger.

"The ******** do you think you're doing? Where is that thing's leash?"

Joy was still learning about the whole magical radar thing, and therefore it did not quite tick over to the level of consciousness that something was ineffably wrong until the little brat referred to her as the Page of the HOA. This was, admittedly, a very funny title, but still: goddammit.

Probably the best thing to do was to pretend like she wasn't suddenly terrified. Still, she found her fingers searching out that damned little whistle, the closest thing she had to a means of defense, although she wasn't using it just yet.

"Don't you try and be all badass by pretending like that abomination of a slurpee is delicious," she said indignantly. "And he is not, don't you pull that bullshit emotional support animal move with me. Working dogs are on a leash. Which he isn't."

It wasn't that she didn't try to dodge it. It was just that she didn't do a very good job of it.

"I've had worse!" she snapped, which was, in context, a bit of a confused rebuttal, but it was about as much as could be expected from her when she was trying to look dignified with green slurpee dripping off of her nose and into her mouth. She bent down to pick up the cup and what was left in it, but magically-enhanced or not, a mostly-empty cup was never going to be the most effective missile.

The sidewalk did not afford a great deal in the way of alternatives. With an inward apology to Todd, she snatched up the easel that was - appropriately - boasting the new slurpee flavor, and waved it with a great deal of menace that she hoped would be enough to prevent her having to actually lob it.

"Your coworker needs a leash, but I think you do too, you little brat!"

"Not like that, you horrible little degenerate," said Joy indignantly, feeling pretty wounded.

She took a glance up at Tony, who, at least, didn't seem inclined to get involved any more than Petitcru might have. Thank god.

It felt somehow gauche to smack a teenager with a sign while she was lying on her back. It felt wrong - dishonorable, somehow. She had a moment of misgiving as she mentally compared herself to post-Vulgate Gawain, which surely only she would ever have cared about, and then decided to thread the needle. This entailed - because she was not above pettiness - scooping up a mass of green goddess slurpee from the mess still dripping down her head, and flinging it towards her face. Maybe not quite Pearl Poet Gawain, but probably better than Prose Tristan. Maybe a24. She would not aspire higher.

"Get up, dummy," she said, not quite kicking her in the ribs, but definitely nudging her with her foot in an extremely insistent way that might have called the definition into question.

Joy watched her go in a bit of bewilderment, hopping on one foot with a string of muttered curses, before remembering herself enough to yell - or maybe scream, without dignity - after her: "I hope you know this means I won!"

Several minutes later Elaine - not limping, but wanting to - came to retrieve her dog, and also to stuff a twenty into his makeshift tip jar.

"She deserves employee of the month," she told Todd dourly, examining her name badge and then adding, as she went to go: "You will notice that she has a ******** leash."