Rosie is used to superficial, surface-level connections due to her line of work. There wasn't really room for much attachment, which probably contributes to some of why she thinks the way she does. The limited relationships she did have were... difficult, to say the least. Complicated. Messy. While she wanted to believe that she was wanted around, it wasn't always easy to tell.

"We are! It's just that I can, like, be a lot sometimes. I know, so- It's fine! People get on each other's nerves sometimes or, like, you can only take certain people in smaller doses. That kind of thing, I think." And she was one of the people who wasn't always easy to tolerate. Or so she'd been told (again and again and again).

Either way, she's glad for distraction of the bike-dog turned actual dog. Rosie perks up as she watches the essence kind of... ooze out and then take canine form. Huh. Neat! A hellhound, indeed, with all that fire. Smokey seems fascinated by this transformation more than anything. Metal friend now warm friend? He boops his long snoot against Hangman's fleetingly and wags his tail.

"-anyway!" she's also quick to try and re-direct. "Look at them," the blond coos. "Cute... I actually wondered if Smokey would be all by his lonesome, but looks like not! We'll have to get them out together more, yeah?"