"He is a cat, he goes where he pleases- ah." Remi wakes with a soft yawn, uncurling from where he'd tangled himself up with the end of her braid. "Is that not so, chatton? You go where you wish."

There is no lilting or upward swing of her voice when she speaks to the cat- not in the slightest. She speaks to him in much the same way she speaks to Anders. Exasperated, fond, and with all due consideration. Remi responds by rolling over and crawling out of her lap to stretch on the table.

"And for the last time, he is not mine. He is his." No bell'ed collar on this kitten, just fluff and blue eyes and an imperious mew.