There is a dull clank as dog hits armor.

Cullen doesn't stop to greet, rather begins to pull steel --

-- but no; he's tired, and on edge; this mabari is excited. His shoulders slump, a little (meaning his pauldrons sink a few centimeters); his hands relax. "Hello," he murmurs, but doesn't bend. "Lirene, did you get a -- ?"