By "wash the puppy," the Mayor meant to bring me in the shower with her. So we're currently playing under the hot water, making shampoo Mohawks, and then washing them away. I can hear her brother getting more and more annoyed at the fact we're ignoring his instructions to dry off and go to bed, but he's been unwilling to do anything about it so far.
It's her mother, who I have yet to hear called by her name, who puts a stop to the games, dragging us out and throwing a towel on my head while she takes her daughter to her room.
"Follow me, pup. You can take the towel in with you." Jacob instructs, and I gather my clothes to follow him to the cage. They've added a thick cushion and several blankets at some point, and it looks pretty comfy for a prison cell.
