He hesitates at the fountain, glancing at her sidelong in a cautiously optimistic fashion. The dog stands on its hind legs and tries to drink from the stream of water.

"Nate," Jason says, the small smile appreciative of her friendliness. Nate is a twerp. But at least he's not Brucie. He turns the smile down at the fountain, focusing on letting the dog have its drink. "You?"