Ghoul can safely say that this is the first time he's had an actual, for-real staring contest with a dog.

Well, sort of. Whatever intense eye contact they may have had ends up broken a few times by Ghoul casting meaningful glances up at Eames while he does his thing- as if wordlessly telling the dog no, look at him. It's not really working. All that seems to be happening is a lazy tail wag every time Ghoul's gaze returns to the animal's face. Rebellious little piece of shit.

The scowl on his face is quickly washed away by the brief, panic-fueled sensation of being dunked in cold water. Eames' innocent sounding statement catches him by surprise, and he's quickly looking the man over again like he's missed something. "Uh, what?" Eames doesn't particularly smell like anything out of the ordinary. Then again, Ghoul can only really pick out wolves, vampires, and sometimes certain shifters. Those aren't the only beings out there, he knows, but it still kind of weirds him out to know that some of them can blend in so easily while he is, somehow, still so obvious.

Shit ain't fair.