Most people who held out an arm, or a hand, or any limb to Finch ran the risk of having it ripped off. But the girl seemed harmless, downward gaze and outstretched hand, her promises of being 'nice', and Luke trusted the dog's judgment almost as much as he trusted his own. No limbs were being torn off tonight. Finch sniffed the proffered hand almost delicately, before nudging her arm with his nose. Luke rolled his eyes in the darkness. "Not nice people usually don't admit as much," he remarked wryly. "And yeah, you are." He paused. Frowned. "No. But I'm not telling you to be scared. I'm suggesting that you be careful."
Hah. He didn't think he was a knight, and he didn't think he saved people anymore. "I'm here to try to stop people from being stupid. That's all. It's not nice." His voice was a little too sharp near the end. Warmth made his chest ache, the pain of loss. He didn't want it.