[ A hunting dog... she shifts, turning her face toward the camera, at all the awkwardness of an angle that lets her peer into it and look at Will. Her hair's pulled back into a messy bun, bangs free and partly obscuring her eyes, until she brushes them back toward one ear. Nothing remarkable in what she's wearing. Kids wear hoodies all over, and hers is no more descript than most. Particularly lacking any sort of logo or symbol to mark it as making any particular statement.

Which could have been a statement, but was more of a statement on her irritation with pointlessly decorated outerwear. ]

The hunting dogs I've seen didn't look anything like him. He's only a puppy? How many months old?

[ ... Okay. She's genuinely interested in the dog. This isn't as far out there as the other animals that keep pulling at her attention. Dogs have a function, albeit one divorced from her, and it makes her interested hearing about something more tangibly relatable for once. ]

You're training him to hunt?

[ Fisherman, houndsman, investigates the dead... sort of, man. Will wears a lot of hats on that messy mop of hair. ]