Nooope. Party's question remains unanswered. Ghoul refuses to encourage him by giving him attention. He puts more effort in to the dog, and he manages to get it nice and hyped up in the next few seconds. It's yipping again, tiny paws kicking in open air. It's ready to destroy. Ghoul bends down to release it. It's only inches away from the ground when he hears what can only be described as a wailing banshee from the other end of the alley.

It actually sounds sort of terrifying. He jerks upright again, dog still in hand, just in time to find another pastel-colored whirlwind running at him at full speed- or as full speed as she can get on expensive heels. The lady's very pretty, but also very rich looking, and is focusing all of her near-hysterical attention on her dog rather than the two men babysitting it. Ghoul's making a game out of counting how many dumb petnames he's heard come out of her mouth when she plucks the dog from his hands. The stupid thing whines like it doesn't want to go, but it's too late. The woman's cuddling it hardcore and clacking her way around the corner.

Well. That takes care of the dog problem, but still. Jesus.

Ghoul's stunned, staring blankly in the direction they'd gone, then down at his empty hands which he slowly lowers again. When he glances back over at Party, his eyes are a little wide. "This place is a fucking mess."