[ The with them in question: a nearly six foot tall young man with a face scar, whose sharp eyes have narrowed into near slits at the painting's beckoning. Cute? Sweet Genya echoes the sentiment in his mind, sending the annoying painting and its habitants a glare before his attention lands on the other ... man?

Dog? He's always liked dogs, making this a very strange experience. Affection mixed with mortification, a bit of confusion, and a great dollop of resignation. He has been in the resort long enough to have seen people of all hide and hair. A dog man is, frankly, one of the cuter in his opinion. One of his happiest memories had been feeding scraps the strays with his brother when they were young.

Something which has nothing whatsoever to do with the situation at hand. ]

A bad game. [ he is quick to put the blame on the girls; they moan and whine before continuing to insist they see some cuteness. ] But I think they're serious about not moving until we do. [ this feels unfair... isn't this dog guy cute enough to qualify based on appearances alone? ] I guess we can... hold hands. That should work, right?

[ As he offers a similarly scarred up hand, glancing away while he does. He's trying his best to not be embarrassed about this! ]