Nate was making an effort to ignore his daughter as she tugged on his pantleg. He was trying to pull a confident face in the mirror, the same confident face that he'd had all those months ago and that everyone in his life was familiar with. That had been, of course, before a dog's head had replaced his own in every reflective surface he passed. He knew nobody else could see his Dogface, but he wondered if his expressions still read as they once had. He crinkled his left brow ever so slightly.

Ramona gave his suit's leg another tug, her grubby fingers digging into the fabric and rubbing its rough insides against his thigh. "Dad dad dad dad," she chanted monotonously, audibly bored with her father's absentmindedness.

"What is it, sweets?" Nate muttered, his focus still on his own waggling eyebrows.

"Daaad," Ramona said, "I asked Mom and she said no but she also said I could ask you so I came to ask you if could you drive me to Wendy's after schooool 'cause Callie's gonna be there and it's been a really really really long time since we had burgers."

Nate was only half listening. He found himself gently stroking the whiskers rooted along his chops, curious as to whether or not he could truly feel them. He could. They were almost like long, turgid hairs from the beards he use to have during his lazier months back when he had his Manface. Their sensitivity matched that of his fingertips, and he found himself repulsed enough to squint at the realization but used enough to his head's current unfamiliarity to swallow a shiver, heave a sigh, and adjust his tie again.

"No promises," he said at last as his daughter grappled gently around his calf, "but we'll see, okay?"

Ramona smiled and chirped, "'Kaythankyew!" before stumbling off to the kitchen.

Nathaniel stood still in the mirror with his fingers spreading across his chest. He looked on, his eyes growing wet as they drifted between his pinkish, wrinkling skin and his brown fur.

(if you like this style keep your eyes peeling in the near future)