Initially, Chris had planned to attend the walkathon with one of the many friends he's made during the years of volunteering at the shelter, all of them equally as enthusiastic about the four-legged buds as him. As faith would have it, however, the text went out to the wrong person, and so here he was, stood next to the sign-up booth, exchanging small-talk with the owners of the shelter, too caught up in running the thousand-and-one scenario of all that might go wrong that day to truly pay attention to the conversation.
After what seemed like hours, a familiar face finally caught his attention, the sight of Gen already coloring his cheeks every shade of red imaginable. "Hey, Gen!" he yelled, waving her over, "I, uh, I already signed us up, I hope you don't mind," the blush only deepened on the word 'us', "But, uh, yeah - these are Ollie, Pixie, and Lucky," he looked down at the three dogs laying next to his feet; a labrador, a newfoundland and a cocker spaniel, "and that," he pointed to a german shepherd lazily sprawled underneath the sign-up table, "is Molly. They're a bit old and slow, but they’re the best companions the world has to offer, I promise.”
