"They're not melons," Willa confirms, shaking her head with a smirk. "I'll take whichever one you can catch," she suggests; the only thing Willa knows about catching chickens is how damn hard it is once they know you're trying. "I've never owned 'em before, but I know you don't want to fuck with the rooster, Zeke's all scratched up and shit from getting him here in the first place."
She watches him as he works, and it's significantly more amusing when you aren't the one getting winded trying to chase the little cluckers down. "You gonna be a volunteer farmer?" she calls, crouching down on her haunches beside Melissa and giving the dog a scratch to help with the pining jealousy that's evident in the way she watches her master.