Outside of Queequeg's, Dorothy seems entirely unsurprised to be approached out of the blue and complimented on her dog. Why should she be, after all? Rex is a very lovely dog. She pats him on the head and ruffles his fur, and he gives her hand a quick lick hello.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him," she says to the nice (and arguably handsome, if you're into that sort of thing) stranger, smiling gratefully. "They wouldn't let me bring him in, or else I'd never have tied him up at all. City's full of those birds lately, more and more every day. I don't like the look of 'em at all--"

A shout and what sounds like laser blasts, followed by the cries of birds, distracts Dorothy mid sentence. She (and her dog) whips around to stare down the street, and after a brief pause, she takes off running down the road towards the sound of the fight, leash in hand. Apparently she's not one to shy away from conflict-- apparently, neither is her dog.