Aside from drool and dirt, that necklace was more or less in the same state as before it had been stolen. It was a hardy little thing-- if an article of jewelry could survive Silent Hill, it could pretty much survive anything. Still, Heather wrinkled her nose slightly and wiped it off on her vest before she put it on.

"I guess that's true--" The Growlithe, now having forgotten that he had ever had a less-than-happy moment, had trundled on over and was headbutting Heather's knees as dogs tend to do, panting happily. As usual, he seemed more or less oblivious to Heather's bad moods. Which was kind of lucky, because she had not been very patient with him.

Shuffling backwards slightly, Heather placed both hands on the dog's head as she spoke, attempting to redirect his headbutting attention to somewhere else-- like, the air, or something-- speaking as she did so.

"I... uh, no..." That? Was a lie. She'd been calling him 'Cujo'. Which was not the most flattering name ever, even if most people here hadn't heard of Stephen King. "I'm not good with dogs..."

Someone had actually offered her a trade earlier, seeing how phenomenally terrible she was at being happy about her starter, but she had declined for some reason that she wasn't even sure she really understood.

But she'd had enough of being all... like, uncertain, and cautious and stuff for the moment. Pffft. Heather Mason wasn't cautious and uncertain. So she straightened up and offered Zack a hand. One that was slightly dirty from crawling around in the brush after the necklace-thief. "Allow me to remake that kinda lousy first impression. Howdy, I'm Heather. And I totally didn't faceplant on your feet a few minutes ago."