To the ground [prp Sabra]

[Capt. Reacher]

There isn't much for her in Boston.

Not much for a woman who'd grown up around the rolling hills of Wyoming, not much for a woman who had lived her life in the trees and on the rocks. Maybe not so much for Carter either-- the giant oversized fluffy Shepherd that seemed to love running around in the fields as much as Reacher used to. Carter whines next to her in the rumbling pickup, an obvious indication that he's antsy to get to their destination. With one hand still on the wheel, Reacher uses the other to bury her hand into the thick fur of his neck and scratch him, mumbling promises of being at the park soon.

She'd been making that promise all week, telling the cooped up dog that she'd let him out soon, telling him to give Mommy some more time, and finally she'd given in to his puppy dog eyes and pathetic whimpers. She'd barely been home from work, still wearing her Greens and hair still in a tight bun, when the massive animal charged at her and nearly tackled her to the ground with two huge paws planted straight on her chest.

When she arrives, she parks the truck, opens the door and holds it for the massive animal who comes rushing out and hitting the ground with the thud of his weight and the clicking of claws. He looks up at her, sitting down expectantly and waiting for her to clip the leash to his harness. "Damn leash laws." She growled to herself, wrapping the end of the leash around her wrist and heading to the grass with him.

And after running around with him (and letting him tackle her to the ground a few times, and vice versa), the two were sitting in the grass side by side, one drooly shepherd panting and one Madison Reacher wishing she'd changed into more comfortable clothes before agreeing to this.

[Sabra]

Sometimes she just has to get away from the hustle and bustle of the street, the beast's nerves wear thin and so do her's if she stays in the city for too long. Not a pleasant combination and so Sabra finds herself in the park, lounging in the shade of a large oak, enjoying her people watching.

With a little effort she could sometimes sharpen her senses, and the college student is a shameless eavesdropper, listening in on the conversations between a family or a young couple. It helps to remind her the humanity that lies at the center of what seemed to her at least, like a buzzing hive of busy bees, absent of the familiarity she knew in the country. In Kentucky it was rude if you didn't wave to everyone who drove past, rather it be while sitting on your porch or fishing down at a pond it was a simple gesture of recognition. In Boston you were lucky if you got a 'sorry' when someone shoved past you on the street.

It had taken Sabra a few years to accept the city mentality and even still she found herself feeling out of place most times. Maybe in a little while, once her degree was finished up she could go back to Louisville, serve as a vet for one of the big race tracks like she had always dreamed.

Threading her fingers through the grass she jerked her gaze upwards as paw and fur filled her vision. A clearly tired woman flopped down next to her, the German Shepherd panting harshly in the afternoon heat. "That's a nice shep you have there." Sabra complimented, genuinely friendly. She sat up, moving forward to offer out a hand to the dog, palm flat so he could get a good sniff at her before she tried anything else. "Working lines? You don't see a whole lot of those, less they're from the police."

The male clearly wasn't the typical shepherd you'd see, all fancied up, crippled effectively for the show ring. No, this was a working dog, meant for the mean streets, taking down criminals and busting people for weed. Sabra was glad she'd been entered into a more obscure area of the illegal substances business and was out of danger from any sniffing nose.

[Capt. Reacher]

The heat of her ACU after activity is suffocating. She starts pulling the jacket off as the dark haired woman next to her speaks. Above the smell of the panting dog, the grass and the trees, the scent of the wolf breaks through and overwhelms her senses, causing the older woman to slow for a moment and look at the other carefully with a steady golden eye. Reacher, although one herself, has never had too much trust for the other beasts, finding they use it as a weapon way more than necessary. But this one's tone is friendly enough.

"That's a nice shep you have there."

"Thanks," Reacher says, watching as the younger extends a hand to Carter. Carter doesn't move from his spot, but rather looks at her hand for a moment before dropping his ears and craning his neck out to sniff it a few times, and after a second, licking her fingertips. The Shep pulls back, ears sliding forward and looking up at the stranger expectantly.

"Working lines? You don't see a whole lot of those, less they're from the police."

Reacher nods curtly, looking at her giant fluffball with appreciation. "Military," Evident by her ACU that she's still wearing. In her opinion, the military dogs are ten times better than the police dogs. They're trained longer, trained harder, and trainer with better trainers. "He was trained in Detection for a short while before handed over to me for Protection&Guard." The military's fluffy, gentle title for attack that otherwise meant "seek and destroy." If he had ever been deployed with Reacher, he would have been used mainly for sentry purposes, a danger that she didn't want to risk, feeling too close to him already.

"I had to jump through hoops to do it-- but I removed him from their custody, he's all mine now." The scar-faced woman grinned proudly, and extended a hand to the woman to shake it. "Reacher; Madison Reacher."