Cheery, indeed--Myr shivers as if a cloud's passed before the sun and attends to his water rather than grim speculation on what might happen should Corypheus make it so far as Kirkwall. Surely it won't come to that, he's about to say, with rather more optimism than he feels--when Garahel comes over and drops the ball beside him, immediately diverting his attention. "Oh--hello, Garahel."

He reaches out to feel around for what the mabari's brought him, wrinkling up his nose a little as he finds the damp ball. "Did you want me to throw this?" That's...that's a thing you do with dogs, right? "I--" don't think that's a good idea, because while his arm's fine there's no saying he won't hit somebody with the ball if he chucks it in a random direction... But then a thought occurs to him.

"--need you to go a little ways away from us in a direction there's no people, then bark so I know where to throw it. Can you do that?" It seems a practical enough experiment to him.