She'd been used to the idea that she'd simply have to function as the human equivalent of a marionette when she thought she had no way out of marrying Cal. She'd done her best to numb her emotions, but even that wasn't enough, leading to her meeting Jack and having the life breathed back into her again.

There may be a great deal of repressed trauma.

So am I! I had so many paintings I'd bought while I was in Europe. Now all of them are at the bottom of the North Atlantic.

But she has since come to learn that "Something" Picasso had become a world-renowned artist, one who inspired generations after him. Eat that, Cal.

He was...how do I describe him? I needed someone to question me, to ask out loud the things I'd been wondering about to myself for months and he was willing to do that. At first, I thought it was because he was a poor boy who'd grown up without proper manners, but his lack of regard for proper manners was actually attractive. My society lived on proper manners to the point of being priggish and it was intolerable. He was smart and funny and kind and he was willing to do anything to make sure I lived, that I was okay.

And he was cute.

Though, she's ignoring the "anything" for now, for fear it sends it sends her back into distress.

But I hate crying. Once I start, it's hard to stop. And that's something we have in common.

And the dog-beast form contorts, but doesn't change other than losing some of the dog hair.