The doorbell's answered immediately, in a series of high-pitched barks with some growling thrown in for good measure—like a miniature buzzsaw. This goes on for a minute or so, then another voice joins in, negotiating: “Hey, hey, c'mon girl.” It's smooth and pleasant, but with a desperate undercurrent that grows more pronounced the longer the barking goes on.

Finally, the barking fades and the door swings open. “Hi.” Jupe's appearance gives no hint of the commotion that preceded it: he wears a cardigan over a crisp dress shirt and slacks, along with a well-cared-for wristwatch and an easy smile. If his gaze settles on her a little longer than usual—well, who's to say? “Wow, those look good,” he says, every bit the friendly neighbor. “Why don't you come in, warm up? It's freezing out there.”