Crona blinks owlishly at Dojima, at the offered hand. It's a bit of a longer stare than is necessary and probably strays into uncomfortable territory. Just before it gets too painful to bear, though, the offered hand is taken by a shaky, nervous touch.

"I'm very not used to this kind of thing." A soft, low-alto voice. "I know how to fight, but I don't know how to be a dog. Or do magic."

A hesitation, and the teen finally looks Dojima in the face. "I want to help."