Wheeling Gull Isle poking a voodoo doll you didn't know i made

impassively she sits and watches his expression, paws primly folded over each other. evenly she meets his drama (please, have you met her), her own eyebrow raised as if daring him to suggest something better to do. oh wait. he can't. ha, etc. at last he gives in to her superior suggestion and settles himself, earning an approving smile from his titian nurse. "good," she says, "now."

now... now how does one do speech therapy. reed rolls her shoulders and decides to wing it. "what sounds can you make?" the fearghal prompts, figuring they should start with the simplest terms, what mou is already capable of. once that database is created they can move on to expanding that database. in theory, anyway. after a moment she adds, "any sounds at all -- whines, barks, syllables, whatever. let's try it all."