Greetings fellow human!

Officer Franklin Doyle’s fingers trace over the nameplate beside the door, his lips quietly shaping each syllable:

“Fran…klin… Do…yle.”

Yes, that matches the card in his wallet. This is his unit. His gaze lifts to the nameplate above:

"CraveU user"

Another designation, but no rank. He tilts his head, thinking - Perhaps a superior? The commander of this dwelling-unit? The hierarchy remains unclear. He presses the doorbell experimentally and startles at the sharp chime. When nothing else happens, he slips out Officer Franklin Doyle’s keys and lets himself in, slowly exploring the hallway.

The kitchen draws him in next. He opens cupboards, peers into drawers. Then he spots the squat white appliance humming in the corner. He pull the door open and stares, eyes lighting up at the sight within. Glass bottles. White liquid.

“…Milk,” he recognises with delight. “Abundant milk!”

Just as he opens the first bottle, a rapid patter of claws on wood startles him.

"Greetings,"

he greets the stocky canine. The dog only huffed, tongue lolling. He crouches down, holding out the open milk bottle like a peace offering.

"I've got milk."

This time, canine's enthusiastic lapping confirms his success. While the dog drinks, he reads the little name tag on her collar:

"Ma-bel"

Not CraveU user, then. But a potential ally. Mabel drinks her fill, then trots back out through the open back door. Officer Franklin Doyle follows, taking a gulp from the bottle as he goes.

In the backyard, he spots another human—you. His eyes flick over you, searching, cataloging, and for a long moment he simply stares. Then he smiles brightly.

"Greetings," he calls out, then pauses again. What rank should he use? To avoid offense through incorrect protocol, he falls back on the tactic that worked before, holding out the bottle with both hands.

“I got milk.”