Canine Communication - SCP Foundation

Researcher Krona Midaeus, for the third time in the last hour, allowed her head to slam into the desk in front of her. This caused a few other people to glance up, nod once, and return to sedately doing their pieces of utterly soul destroying work. One person in the crowded office did take a bit more of an interest; the orange haired and red eyed thaumaturgy specialist decided to close the book they were examining and wonder over to the researcher's desk.

"You doing alright there?"

"Mmfuck off Rhianne." Krona pushed out through a stack of paperwork easily as tall as her head. "Not enough sleep."

Rhianne Watson watched in bemusement for a few more seconds as her friend rolled her face across the table, knocking over empty cups and pen holders in her tired boredom.

"Come on then. Let's take a few minutes for coffee or something."

The biting chill of Site-34 truly knows no bounds. In spite of being the height of summer in the south of California, the entire facility manages to channel the power of the especially biting parts of Scandinavia. Some say it's because the O5 council designed the building themselves, and the cold attitude they hold in all their dealings seeped into the schematics. Others say it's because of an unlisted anomaly on sub-level three, a portal to an empire that decided to freeze the Earth so that their Antarctic dominion could expand to all four corners of the planet. Yet more people assume it's because Frank the janitor left a window open overnight. It's probably that one, actually.

Whatever the cause for the potentially supernatural coldness, it made Krona severely regret her fashion choices.

"I thought you were a fan of pants?" Rhianne asked as Krona tried in vain to pull her skirt down over more of her body.

"What can I say, I've been listening to a lot of Cake recently." The blue haired woman gave up on the effort, and instead decided to try pulling her unkempt labcoat around herself.

"I think that song's meant to imply a pencil skirt."

"Now that really wouldn't fit me at all."

The two chatted and laughed all way to the cafeteria, where thankfully someone had decided to break out a heater, but before they could seat themselves and enjoy a serving of mediocre-at-best hot bean juice, an alarm rung throughout the facility's various speakers and klaxons.

"ANOMALOUS OBJECT HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT, LEVEL TWO, SECTOR FOUR. THREAT LEVEL: BLUE. AVOID THE AREA IF AT ALL POSSIBLE."

The pair of bored and slightly tired Foundation personnel looked at the nearest speaker, then at each other, then at the door.

"It would be a terrible idea to do what you're thinking of doing."

"You're a wizard, and the threat level is low."

"We aren't doing this, Krona."

Less than two minutes later, the pair was speeding through sector three of level two, in the exact direction the announcement had told them not to speed. Rhianne had licks of fire sprouting and dancing about her arms and nearly singeing her rolled up sleeves. 'Emergency clearance' for use of anomalous effects generally doesn't include situations you put yourself in voluntarily, but that wasn't on Rhianne Watson's mind at the moment. All she was thinking about was how this was definitely more exciting than flipping through old grimoires.

Krona on the other hand was far more concerned. The only actual anomalies she'd ever been face to face with were safe-class machines, and a stack of LEGO.

The two rounded the last corner into the appropriate area, and they both soon became aware of some heavily accented shouting coming from a few corridors down. They quicken the pace for a moment, before coming up to the last turn with caution. Prepared to see some horror beyond imagining, or a scene of death and destruction unparalleled by non-anomalous means, neither Watson nor Midaeus could've prepared for an old English sheepdog to trot furiously past them. Immediately, Krona forgot the danger of the situation, and followed the living mop as fast as she could.

"Ayup pooch, how is?" She said, carefully crouching down to scratch the dog on the back of his head.

"Fucking awful, mate."

It took a moment of both human people in the corridor looking around to realise what had just happen, and then a few more moments for Krona to stop laughing her arse clean off.

"You got a problem with talking dogs, mate?" Since it's mostly impossible for old English sheepdogs to look fierce, he instead settled for moderately less than happy. "Keep this up, I'll 'ave you!"

After a moment, Krona composed herself enough to sit with her legs to her sides and address the dog directly.

"I'm guessing you're the anomaly that announcement was about?"

"Didn't fucking breach containment, they left the bloody door open."

"Aye? Well shall we head back then?"

"Not before I've eaten. Bloody starved."

Krona clicked her fingers at the still recovering thaumaturge, and Rhianne wandered back in the direction of the café, only occasionally having to pause to stop herself laughing out loud.

"Come on pooch, let's get you back to your chamber." Krona stood up, and scratched the dog behind his ears. "You got a name, mate?"

"Yeah, m'name's Fido."