Frank wakes bolt upright - 3 AM. Well, isn't that familiar. But there are no visions of splattered gray matter dancing through his head. He doesn't even think he's been asleep long enough for REM, truthfully. He grabs his knife from beneath his pillow, something raising the hair on the back of his neck and down his arms tellingly. Something is here. Is it the same thing that keeps visiting him, leaving things behind in his room? Max seems to sense it too because he stands up at the foot of the bed, barking his fool head off. The cacophony is bound to wake his neighbors, but all that's on Frank's mind is neutralizing the threat, his waking brain animalistic and simple.

The visage of an older woman, maybe a little older than himself, appears wearing a Reverie Terminal jumpsuit - just like that. He's sure he hadn't blinked and yet there she is. His heart's going a mile a minute, kabar held close to his body as he circles in closer to the lady, as if afraid she'll disappear the closer he gets. When she starts to speak, Kamala - Kamala? - flies into the room like her hair's on fire. Briefly distracted by her appearance, his gaze lights on hers. Thankfully, Frank sleeps in his jumpsuit and magboots, always ready to go, so she's not getting an eyeful.

"Do you..." That's all he gets out, waving his knife at the vision of the woman just as she speaks up.

"Be ready to initiate lockdown," she says, voice clear and crisp and body language straight and professional. It's like a looped memory, like the voice they'd heard upon arrival. He swallows, unable to tear his eyes from the woman though he knows she can't see him.

[ a day after the mysterious roster appears, frank is waking up to another surprise in his quarters on deck 6. a dog he hasn't seen in almost two years, but one he would recognize anywhere, even in space. anyone who lives near room 19 might hear a dog barking happily before frank decides to make his way out into the station at large and take his chances. ]

Not cool, Max. You blew my cover.

[ it's not that serious really. he's starting to get to know people on the station and he believes on some level that they're all in this together. one rotten apple could still spoil the bunch, but he hasn't seen anyone truly rotten just yet. he has been monitoring the posts on the network closely though, and there have been... a few interesting responses, to say the least. catch these two doges on the way to the mess hall followed by the observation deck (basically anywhere you please!!!) max walks alongside frank dutifully without a leash, but he eyes anyone who comes towards them with a wary look, a low warning growl issuing from his muzzle. ]

Easy, boy, you're okay. [ frank puts a hand on max's head to try and get him to calm down. ]

[ those who have ever seen frank take a meal have never observed the type of focus he's exhibiting now as he punches in specifications for his dog's meal into the fabricator he's most partial to. he's basically the equivalent of the old lady who eats cat food except he'd make max a steak and then eat a packet of tuna okay. once he has their meals calibrated, he makes his way to the far end of the dining hall where he sets max's tray on the ground for him to eat off of and sits at the edge of the table himself to drink his coffee and watch over his companion, hoping space doesn't make him sick. every few minutes, he strokes a hand down the dog's spine gently, looking on with open concern though he usually goes out of his way to hide his feelings from people in this place. (it's not very successful...)

on the approach, max seems unconcerned with people if they sit quickly across from frank in a non-threatening manner. however, if they hover he'll look up from his food and do his warning growl again. ]

I just woke up and he was in my room. [ frank will tell anyone happening by. he sounds bewildered and worried, but also... happy. ] I wonder if they make magboots in his size.

[ frank has settled some after receiving his dog (and knife) and he's sitting by the windows so max can get a good look. the dog presses his face nearly to the glass, fogging up the area he's standing at while he watches over the planet with a seriousness only afforded to working breeds. he would much rather protect this strange collection of odd-smelling humans than the irish mafia in hell's kitchen any day. bring it on, his expression seems to say.

for his part, the ex-marine has his newly acquired knife out and is painstakingly ripping the stitches on his right palm so he can pull them out without injuring himself further. he flexes his hand once he's done and looks up briefly at whomever he might be sharing the deck with before addressing the dog again. ] How do you like that, Max? First rescue dog in space.

[ on the way back to their room, max gets away from frank, clearly thinking it's a game. the pit hops onto an elevator with someone who either doesn't listen to frank's warnings to hold it or simply don't have time before the doors close. either way you are now accompanied by a stocky, brown dog with a white chest and a smile in his big, brown eyes for the duration of your elevator ride.

once the elevator lets off, it's max's time to go exploring without his overbearing dad breathing down his neck!! stop cramping his style, frank!! he will be found in corridors mostly, sniffing around at the empty casings or people's boots. some people he finds more interesting than others, of course. maybe he refuses to drop your scent, nose pressed to the side of your shoe insistently. TELL HIM YOUR INTENTIONS OR ELSE.

he will eventually make it back to deck six and frank himself, but you're also welcome to try and find his owner, or just play a game of tag with him. once he feels comfortable around someone (this will go quicker for women/girls and generally non-threatening individuals) he'll tap his wet nose against your arm and then run off, expecting to be pursued. ]

[ feel free to run into dog + man or just dog in any location you please and write your own starter if nothing pings you here! happy to roll with anything :) ]