A Furry Problem

Franziska scoffed, and turned her back towards him. Fuck you, old man, and your weird dog obsession, too, she was being a brat now. Looking for any dig that might hurt him; he'd worried her and she wasn't sure how to process that. Or the fact it meant she cared.

Oh, her mother would cane her right now, if she were alive. I'm going to my rooms, since you're in a mood. She decided, after a moment. She slept separately from her husband, most nights, often with a maid or another servant in her bed. Shameless, even though the door between the suites could be opened on a whim.

Hope you don't have rabies, you fool.

@Byron Wulff