Angus has his face pressed to his knees for a long few seconds, his shoulders tight around his ears. His posture tightens further still at I think. When he lifts his head, a few tears have clearly struggled down his cheeks.

"Please don't say sorry, ma'am. I — it has to have been me. Logically. Since she was being very calm before when she was smelling things. So it follows I'm not very good with dogs. It's good information to have."

He looks at Daisy sorrowfully.

". . . She's very cute, ma'am." If it helps, we also hate this!