"Shoo."

Amelia-- tall, slender, very pretty, very messy, and slightly drunk (like usual)-- flips her hand in the croc-dog's general direction, looking somewhere between distressed and annoyed. The creature gapes its jaw at her in something that might in another creature be considered a grin.

"Go away," she tries again. It just inches closer to her, to her frustration. "Ugh, how do I get rid of you? Couldn't I have attracted one of the feathered things around here, at least?"