Talky lil' bastard.

Heh, yeah, my dog loves whatever weird soap operas they got around here. Always watches those while packing my bags. She won't let me do it myself anymore. From the way she growled and waved her arms at me, I think she was saying I do it wrong.

Yeah. Packs my bags for me at night, pre-fight.

I guess that makes it zero hour.

[His eyes go up to the drifting clouds.]

Nine a.m.